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BT 

THE    SENIOR    MINISTER 

OF    TUB    WB3T    CHURCH    IX    BOSTON. 


BOSTON: 
TICK&OR   AND    FIELDS. 

M  DCCC  LV. 


2, 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1854,  by 

TICKNOK     AND     FIELDS, 
In  the  Clerk's  Oifice  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


THCU3TOX     AND    TORIIY,    PRINTERS. 


DEDICATION. 


TO    MY    CHILDREN, 

Whose  love  and  devotedness  have  been  a  source  of  hap- 
piness and  joy  to  me  in  my  days  of  health  and  activity, 
and  of  solace  and  comfort  in  seasons  of  infirmity,  and  in 

old  uge  : 

AHD 

TO    THE    PRECIOUS    MEMORY    OF    THEIR    SAINTED    MOTHER, 

CJ)fs  Volume  Is  JDeUicatrt 


TO  ELIZABETH  CUTTS  BUTTON. 

I  dedicate  this  volume  also  to  you.  We  are  the  chil- 
dren of  the  same  parents ;  grew  up  from  infancy  together ; 
have  been,  through  life,  except  only  for  a  brief  period, 
side  by  side  ;  without  the  recollection  of  one  unkind  action, 
or  word,  or  thought,  towards  each  other ;  and  are  the  last 
survivors  of  our  father's  household. 

Nor  is  this  all.  You  will  find  in  this  volume  a  sermon 
containing  the  portraiture  of  a  good  mother,  and  will  not 
fail  to  trace  in  it,  —  though  she  was  not  the  prototype,  — 
the  lineaments  of  the  character  of  that  sainted  being, — 


JV  DEDICATION. 

now  a  ministering  angel  to  us,  —  from  whom  we  both 
received  our  first  lessons  of  piety ;  —  lessons  which  she 
so  fully  and  beautifully  embodied  in  her  own  life  and 
example. 

May  we  be  enabled  to  follow  her  on  the  upward  path 
which  she  so  faithfully  and  lovingly  traced  out  for  us ; 
and  when  called  to  follow  the  beloved  departed,  whose 
hallowed  memory  we  fondly  cherish,  may  we  be  united 
with  them  in  our  FATHER'S  house  above  ! 

Your  loving  and  only  brother. 

Elmwood,  December,  1854. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


THIS  volume  lias  its  origin  in  a  request  repeatedly  made 
to  the  author  that  he  would  republish  the  sermons  he  had 
already  published,  with  a  selection  fyom  his  manuscript 
sermons.  In  order  to  comply  with  this  request,  it  was 
determined,  Providence  permitting,  to  publish  two  vol- 
umes, simultaneously,  the  first  volume  to  contain  such  of 
the  sermons  as  it  was  thought  best  to  republish,  and  the 
second,  the  sermons  which  should  be  selected  from  manu- 
scripts. 

Circumstances  have  led  to  an  alteration  of  this  plan. 
The  volumes  will  be  published  separately,  and  in  a  differ- 
ent order  from  that  originally  contemplated. 

The  state  of  the  author's  health  has  occasioned  a  delay 
in  the  publication,  and  interfered  not  a  little  with  the  pre- 
paratory steps  to  it. 

The  author  is  compelled  to  add,  with  anguish  which  can 
be  understood  only  by  those  who  knew  the  object  of  it, 
that,  after  the  intended  publication  was  announced,  a  do- 
mestic calamity  occurred,  —  the  rupture  of  a  parental  and 
filial  tie,  inexpressibly  dear  and  delightful;  —  which  ren- 
dered the  labor  of  revision  for  the  press  almost  impossible, 
though  it  excited  a  still  stronger  sense  of  responsibility, 
and  more  fervent  desire  that  the  labor  might  not  be  in  vain. 

The  sermons  in  this  volume,  with  the  exception  of  a 
few  of  a  practical  character,  which  had  before  been  pub- 
lished, are  selected  from  the  author's  manuscripts. 

They  are  printed  almost  literally  as  they  were  delivered, 


VI  ADVERTISEMENT. 

except  that,  in  the  delivery,  the  speaker  did  not  always 
feel  obliged  to  confine  himself  strictly  to  the  notes  before 
him. 

They  were  originally  addressed  to  a  people  with  whom 
the  author  has  been  connected  as  a  minister,  with  uninter- 
rupted confidence  and  affection,  for  nearly  half  a  century. 
To  them  they  are  now  especially  sent  forth  from  the 
chamber  to  which,  in  the  providence  of  GOD,  —  always 
wise  and  good,  —  he  has  been,  in  a  great  measure,  con- 
fined by  illness,  for  more  than  three  years.  This  circum- 
stance of  their  more  especial  destination,  will  account  for 
the  introduction  of  sermons  containing  delineations  of 
private  character  and  allusions  to  domestic  griefs,  as  well 
as  of  others  plain,  direct,  and  unelaborated. 

Of  their  kind  reception  of  them  to  whom  they  were 
preached,  and  to  whom  they  are  now  especially  sent,  the 
author  is  well  assured.  They  will  read  them,  as  they 
heard  them,  with  affectionate  interest. 

That  the  reading  may  be  blessed  to  their  benefit,  and 
that  a  blessing  which  the  world  cannot  give  nor  take  away, 
may  be  ever  with  them,  is  the  fervent  wish  and  prayer  of 
their  most  affectionate  friend  and  pastor, 

CHARLES  LOWELL. 

West  Church,  Boston,  December,  1854. 


CONTENTS. 


I.  THE  GOOD  MOTHER  ...  1 

II.  PARENTAL  AND  FILIAL  DUTY    ....  8 

III.  PARENTAL  HOPES 16 

IV.  DUTY  TO  AGED  PARENTS  ...  21 
V.  CHEERFULNESS  IN  YOUTH  SANCTIONED  BY  RE- 
LIGION,  AND    SHOULD    BE    HALLOWED  BY  IT         .      31 

VI.  EVERY  SEASON  OF  LIFE  TO  BE  GIVEN  TO  GOD      .    37 

VII.  THE    GOODNESS    OF    GOD   IN    THE    DEATH    OF 

LITTLE  CHILDREN 42 

VIII.  THE  DIGNITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE     ...  50 

IX.    CONSCIENCE 6d 

X.  THE  UPRIGHT  MAN  ;   a  Character     ...  64 

XI.  THE  FAITHFUL  YOUNG  MAN  j  a  Character        .  69 

XII.    CHRISTIAN   HEROISM 74 

XIII.  PRAYER 82 

XIV.  IDOLATRY  AMONG  CHRISTIANS     ....  92 
XV.  RELIGIOUS  CONVERSATION           ....  98 

XVI.  GOD  ALL-SUFFICIENT                                           .  106 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

SERMON.  PAGE. 

XVII.     THE  EYE  OF  GOD  ALWAYS  UPON  us         .         .  Ill 

XVIII.     THE  DEVOUT  SPIRIT  ALWAYS  WITH  GOD          .  115 

XIX.    DAVID  THE  KING  AND  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL    .  122 

XX.     THE  HIDDEN  LIFE  OF  A  CHRISTIAN         .        .  128 

XXL     A  GOOD  MAN  ;  a  Character             ...  133 
XXII.     THE  BENEDICTION    OF  THE  SAVIOUR  ON  A  WO- 
MAN  OF  JUDEA,  AND  A  TRIBUTE  TO  WOMAN'S 

WORTHINESS 138 

XXIII.  SUBMISSION 146 

XXIV.  THE  DIVINE  DISPENSATIONS  NOT  TO  BE  QUES- 

TIONED,    BUT     TO   BE     SUBMITTED    TO,     AND 

IMPROVED 151 

XXV.    LESSONS   TO   BE    LEARNED    IN    THE    HOUSE   OF 

MOURNING 164 

XXVI.    A  SENSE  OF  THE    PRESENCE  AND    BLESSING  OF 

GOD    INCONSISTENT    WITH    FEAR    .            .            .  172 
XXVII      TH    Y  ARE  NOT    ALONE  WHO   FEEL    ASSURED    THAT 

THE  FATHER  is  WITH  THEM        .        .        .  178 

XXVIII.     THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH       .....  184 
XXIX.     THERE  is  NO  DEATH,  NOR  SORROW,  NOR  PAIN 

IN  HEAVEN 192 

XXX.     THE  RESURRECTION  OF  CHRIST        .        .        .  197 

XXXI.    REGENERATION 204 

XXXII.    PHILIP  THE  EVANGELIST  AND  THE  ETHIOPIAN  211 

XXXIII.  CHARGE 219 

XXXIV.  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER 225 


CONTENTS. 


XXXV.    THE  FOUNDATION  OF  EVERY  ACCEPTABLE  RELI- 

GIOUS SERVICE    ......  236 

XXXVI.    THANKSGIVING         ......  242 

XXXVII.    ON  TAKING  THOUGHT  FOR  TIIE  MORROW          .  253 

XXXVIII.    TEMPERANCE    .......  261 

XXXIX.    MAKING  HASTE  TO  BE  RICH    ....  269 

XL.    CHRISTIAN  RESPONSIBILITY       ....  277 

XLI.    THE  CHRISTIAN  SPIRIT   .....  287 

XLII.    EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON       ....  299 

XLIII.    WHAT  is  NEEDFUL  FOR  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD     .  302 

XLIV.    THE  WISDOM  AND  GOODNESS  OF  GOD,  Ace.      .  319 

XLV.    WELCOME  TO  A  NATION'S  BENEFACTOR    .        .  331 
XLVI.    HOSPITALITY  AND  COMPASSION   TO   EMIGRANT 

FUGITIVES  .......  336 

XLVII.    JERUSALEM       .......  341 

NOTES  TO  THK  SERMON  ON  JERUSALEM    .  353 


SERMON  I. 


THE    GOOD    MOTHER. 
Proverbs  xxxi.  28. — HER  CHILDREN  ARISE  UP,  AND  CALL  HER  BLESSED. 

THE  text  needs  no  explanation.  It  must  present 
to  every  mind  the  portraiture  of  a  good  mother.  It 
is  only  such  a  mother  who  would  be  thus  honored 
by  her  children.  It  is  only  such  a  mother  who,  in 
life,  would  receive  their  grateful  homage,  and  whose 
memorial  would  be  cherished  by  them  among  the 
dearest  objects  of  their  remembrance. 

There  is  something,  indeed,  in  the  very  name  of 
mother,  which  awakens  the  tenderest  associations, 
and  must  excite  in  every  breast,  not  corrupted  and 
hardened  by  vice,  the  liveliest  emotions  of  affection 
and  gratitude.  It  implies,  in  those  who  bear  it,  the 
most  exuberant  kindness  toward  those  to  whom  it 
relates;  and  is  even  used  in  Scripture  to  present  to 
us  the  highest  example  our  weakness  can  compre- 
hend, of  the  Divine  compassion.  Can  a  mother 
forget  her  child  ?  The  Lord  will  not  forget  thee. 

It  is  the  name  of  one  to  whom  we  owe  our 
being;  on  whom  devolves  the  care  of  our  earliest 
years;  who  sustains  us  in  the  most  helpless  period 

VOL.    II.  1 


4,  THE    GOOD    MOTHER. 

of  life ;  who,  with  unceasing  and  untiring  assiduity, 
watches  and  labors  for  our  preservation  and  com- 
fort; to  whom  no  self-denial  is  irksome,  and  no 
exertion  toilsome,  that  can  promote  our  benefit; 
who,  in  our  advancing  years,  regards  us  with  an 
anxiety  and  solicitude  which  has  no  other  name 
than  maternal  by  which  it  can  be  expressed; 
whose  faithful  bosom  is  the  depositary  of  our  early 
joys  and  sorrows;  who  in  sickness  is  found  at 
our  pillow,  wakeful  without  effort;  performing 
such  offices  of  kindness  as  a  mother  only  could  per- 
form ;  and  in  whom,  if  survived,  the  love  for  her 
children  is  the  last  earthly  passion  that  warms  the 
heart. 

All  this  is  included  in  the  name  of  mother: 
affection  intense;  affection  undying  ;  strong  in 
life,  and  strong  in  death ;  labor  untiring ;  care 
unremitted;  anxiety  unceasing.  All  this  is  asso- 
ciated with  that  dear  and  sacred  name ;  all  this 
comes  in  to  swell  the  tide  of  affection  in  the  heart 
of  a  dutiful  child  —  whilst  it  is  enjoying  the  bless- 
ing of  maternal  love  and  care.  All  this  comes  in  to 
swell  the  tide  of  its  grief  when,  on  earth,  that  love 
can  be  felt,  and  that  care  can  be  exercised  no 
longer. 

But  this  is  not  all.  There  may  be  much  more 
than  this,  to  enshrine  this  name  in  our  hearts,  and 
to  cause  them  to  thrill  with  the  tenderest  emotions 
when  it  is  called  up  to  remembrance.  It  is  the 
name  of  one  to  whom,  if  she  is  faithful,  we  owe 
our  first  impressions  of  GOD  and  duty;  who  first 


THE    GOOD    MOTHER.  ti 

teaches  our  heart  to  feel  its  obligations,  and  our 
tongue  to  utter  them;  who  watches  the  opening 
mind,  and,  as  its  powers  unfold,  instils  instruction  . 
in  wisdom  and  virtue,  and  lays  the  foundation  of 
the  future  character;  who,  as  we  grow  in  years, 
is  still  our  faithful  monitor,  judicious  counsellor, 
and  confidential  friend,  restraining  and  guiding  us 
by  the  persuasive  energy  of  her  precepts,  and  the 
silent,  but  not  less  impressive  eloquence  of  her  life; 
furnishing,  while  in  the  mercy  of  GOD  she  is  per- 
mitted to  remain  with  us,  a  beautiful  illustration  of 
the  efficacy  of  the  principles  she  inculcates,  and  the 
hopes  she  would  inspire,  and  leaving  behind  her  a 
bright  and  luminous  track,  which  still  marks  out  for 
us  the  path  by  which  she  ascended  to  heaven. 

It  is  to  such  a  mother  that  children  look  up  with 
a  veneration  and  love  which  may  be  feU,  but  can- 
not be  described.  It  is  the  memory  of  such  a 
mother  which  is  embalmed  in  the  hearts  of  children, 
not  to  decay  till  those  hearts  are  mouldering  in  the 
dust.  I  should  rather  say,  never  to  die,  but  to  live 
with  the  immortal  mind  which  has  received  the 
impress  of  her  virtues. 

How  dear,  how  precious,  is  such  a  mother  to  her 
children  who  are  worthy  of  her!  How  doubly  pre- 
cious when  the  parent,  who  had  shared  with  her  in 
their  veneration  and  affection,  is  gone  from  them ; 
when  she  unites  in  herself  all.  in  this  world,  that  is 
comprehended  in  the  parental  relation,  and  alone 
can  receive  the  offerings  of  filial  piety.  How  anx- 
ious are  they  to  give  her  every  demonstration  of 


4  THE    GOOD    MOTHER. 

their  sense  of  her  value  to  them,  and  of  the  obliga- 
tion they  owe  her !  How  watchful  their  solicitude 
to  promote  her  happiness ;  to  anticipate  her  wishes ; 
to  help  her  infirmities  ;  to  render  cheerful  and 
pleasant  the  evening  of  her  life !  How  tenacious  are 
they  of  every  look  of  tenderness,  as  of  beams  that 
are  soon  to  be  withdrawn.  How  carefully  do  they 
gather  up  her  words  as  treasures  that  will  not  long 
be  supplied ;  watching,  as  her  day  declines,  to  catch 
the  last  rays  of  her  setting  sun.  How  faithful  are 
they  to  the  calls  of  duty,  in  the  closing  scene ;  min- 
istering to  her  weakness,  as  she  has  ministered  to 
theirs.  And  when  the  scene  is  over,  —  when  the 
bitterness  of  death  is  past,  how  are  they  cheered  in 
the  *  solitude  of  their  souls,'  by  the  sounds  of  pious 
resignation,  and  humble  confidence,  and  holy  joy, 
which  seep  yet  to  vibrate  on  the  ear,  and  will 
never,  never  cease  to  vibrate  in  the  heart! 

Blessed  is  such  a  mother !  Blessed  in  life ;  bless- 
ed in  death ;  blessed,  forever  blessed,  in  the  world 
beyond  the  grave.  Her  children  arise  up^  and  call 
her  blessed.  They  bless  her  while  she  lives  to  bless. 
They  bless  her  as  they  receive  the  last  breathings 
of  her  spirit,  which  is  on  the  wing  for  heaven. 
They  bless  her  memory,  which  is  left  as  a  rich  in- 
heritance to  her  children's  children.  Long  after  she 
is  gone,  they  look  back  upon  her  solicitude  and 
fidelity  with  an  interest  which  the  lapse  of  time  has 
not  destroyed,  —  perhaps  has  not  impaired. 

My  hearers !  When  one  so  honored,  deservedly 
honored  by  her  children,  is  taken  away  from  among 


TIIK    GOOD    MOTHER.  5 

n>,  1  would  gladly  delineate  the  features  of  her 
character,  and  thus  indulge  my  own  feelings,  whilst 
I  paid  a  just  tribute  to  the  memory  of  departed 
worth.  1  would  describe,  on  such  an  occasion,  the 
qualities  which  rendered  her  an  object  of  deep  re- 
spect and  warm  affection,  not  only  to  her  children, 
but  to  all  who  enjoyed  her  friendship.  I  would 
describe  the  mind  refined  and  cultivated ;  the  coun- 
tenance beaming  with  sweetness  and  intelligence; 
the  manners  dignified,  yet  winning ;  the  conversa- 
tion, interesting  to  the  wise  from  its  wisdom,  yet 
most  attractive  to  the  young  and  gay  from  its  viva- 
city and  playfulness ;  the  whole  deportment  inspir- 
ing happiness  in  all  around  her.  I  would  dwell  on 
her  compassion,  and  tell  of  the  ignorant  whom  her 
bounty  had  contributed  to  enlighten;  the  poor, 
whose  wants  it  had  supplied ;  the  widows,  whose 
hearts  it  had  caused  to  sing  for  joy.  I  would  in- 
troduce you  to  her  domestic  circle,  and  speak  of  her 
order,  and  economy,  and  industry.  I  would  carry 
you  to  the  bed  of  sickness  and  death,  and  repeat 
the  words-  of  consolation  which  she  addressed  to 
her  children;  and  the  words  of  humble,  yet  firm 
and  steady  confidence  which  she  addressed  to  her 
GOD.  I  would  describe  her  composure  —  nay,  her 
joy  and  rapture,  in  the  prospect  of  being  with  that 
GOD  in  heaven.  All  this,  and  more  than  ihi.-.  1 
would  minutely  detail,  were  I  to  follow  the  prompt- 
ing of  my  own  heart ;  but  to  this,  on  former  occa- 
sions, I  could  only  allude;  and  to  this,  now  that  it 
may  be  told  with  so  much  truth,  I  must  only  allude. 
1* 


D  THE    GOOD    MOTHER. 

There  are  hearts  which  can  fill  up  the  sketch,  and  I 
could  not  do  justice,  by  any  description  of  mine,  to 
the  character  which  is  imaged  there. 

If  the  fervent  wishes  and  prayers  of  children, 
friends,  could  have  availed  aught  to  stay  the  stroke, 
our  friend  '  had  not  died.'  To  us,  indeed,  she  died. 
But, 

«  The  dread  path  once  trod, 
Heaven  lifts  its  everlasting  portals  high, 
And  bids  the  pure  in  heart  behold  their  God.' 

We  mourn,  that  in  the  retirement  of  domestic 
life,  in  the  scenes  of  her  labors  of  benevolence,  in 
this  place,  to  which  she  loved  to  resort ;  we  mourn, 
that  where  we  have  been  accustomed  to  meet  her, 
we  shall  meet  her  no  more. 

But,  as  we  loved  her,  we  rejoice  that  she  has 
gone  to  her  FATHER  ;  to  the  associates  and  friends 
of  her  early  life  whom  it  was  her  lot  to  survive ;  to 
all  who  have  gone  before  her  to  heaven.  We  re- 
joice that  she  has  gone  from  a  world  in  which  there 
is  so  much  pain  and  sorrow,  to  a  world  where  '  there 
is  no  more  pain ;  and  sorrow  and  sighing  flee  away.' 

They  have  been  highly  favored  to  whom  it  was 
permitted  to  enjoy,  in  the  parental  relation,  so  much 
that  was  worthy  of  their  reverence  and  love,  and  to 
enjoy  it  so  long.  They  are  favored  if  they  have 
known  its  value,  and  endeavored  to  improve  it. 
May  they  still  feel  its  energy  exerting  a  powerful 
influence  on  their  conduct!  When  the  image  of 
one  so  venerated  and  loved  comes  up  to  the  mind, 
in  health  or  sickness,  in  joy  or  sorrow,  in  seasons  of 


THE    GOOD    MOTHER.  7 

retirement,  or  in  seasons  of  business  or  pleasure, 
may  it  chasten,  purify,  elevate,  every  thought  and 
feeling  and  purpose  and  desire. 

If,  as  I  have  more  than  once  suggested,  and  de- 
light to  repeat,  they  who  are  glorified  make  a  part 
of  that  '  cloud  of  witnesses '  by  which  we  are  com- 
passed about ;  if  they  are  permitted  to  revisit  the 
scenes  of  their  former  interest  and  attachments ;  if 
they  are  employed  on  errands  of  love  and  mercy  to 
those  who  were  the  objects  of  their  solicitude  on 
earth:  if  they  still  hover  around  us,  witnessing 
what  is  good  in  us,  and  instruments  in  the  hands 
of  Him  who  worketh  by  the  instrumentality  of 
second  causes  in  cherishing  every  holy  purpose, — 
how  should  we  live ! 

My  hearers!  we  are  always  in  the  presence  of 
( ion,  and  the  Spirit  of  GOD  is  always  striving  with 
us.  May  we  live  as  in  this  presence,  and  by  the 
mice  of  this  Spirit,  follow  on  in  the  footsteps 
of  the  pious  dead,  animated  by  the  consciousness 
that  we  are  acting  worthy  of  their  memory,  and 
that  every  step  brings  us  nearer  to  their  renewed 
intercourse,  and  their  eternal  reward. 


SERMON   II. 


PARENTAL  AND  FILIAL  DUTY. 

II.  Tim.  i.,  part  of  verse  5.  —  i  CALL  TO  REMEMBRANCE  THE  UN- 
FEIGNED FAITH  THAT  IS  IN  THEE  J  WHICH  DWELT  FIRST  IN  THY 
GRANDMOTHER  AND  THY  MOTHER,  AND  I  AM  PERSUADED  IN  THEE 
ALSO. 

THE  disciple  to  whom  Paul  addresses  these  words 
was  eminent  for  his  piety.  He  is  frequently  men- 
tioned by  the  apostle  in  terms  of  commendation, 
and  two  epistles  are  directed  to  him  full  of  counsel 
and  affectionate  encouragement.  '  From  a  child  he 
had  learned  the  Scriptures,'  and  was  thus  the  better 
prepared  to  receive  the  truths  of  Christianity.  He 
was  converted  by  the  instructions  of  Paul,  and  was 
his  frequent  companion  in  travel  and  in  suffering. 

It  was  the  privilege  of  this  young  convert  to  have 
a  pious  mother  and  grandmother.  From  that  source 
he,  doubtless,  received  his  early  impressions  of  piety. 
The  unfeigned  faith  that  was  in  him  had  dwelt 
first  in  his  parents  ;  and,  through  the  influence  of  ma- 
ternal counsel  and  example,  had  descended  to  him. 

We  are  led,  then,  to  reflect,  in  the  first  place,  on 
the  advantage  of  having  pious  parents,  especially  a 
pious  mother ;  in  the  second  place,  on  the  responsi- 


PARENTAL    AND    FILIAL    DUTY. 

bility  which  rests  on  children,  who  are  thus  favored; 
in  the  third  place,  on  the  obligation  which  rests  on 
parents,  especially  mothers,  to  confer  this  benefit  on 
their  children. 

1.  It  is  a  privilege  to  have  pious  parents,  espe- 
cially a  pious  mother.  This  position  will  not  be 
denied  or  doubted  in  this  assembly.  It  is  not 
because  it  is  either  new  or  questionable,  that  I  ad- 
vance it ;  but  to  remind  you  of  it,  and  enforce  it, 
tind  derive  instruction  from  it. 

The  relation  in  which  parents  stand  to  then-  chil- 
dren. Lfives  them  an  influence  which  no  other  relation 
confers.  The  characters  of  the  children  partake  more 
or  less  of  the  qualities  which  belong  to  the  characters 
of  the  parents.  The  instruction,  good  or  bad,  which 
is  directly  or  indirectly  conveyed ;  the  example,  bene- 
ficial or  injurious,  which  is  exhibited;  never  reaches, 
without  ellect,  the  eye  or  the  ear  of  the  child.  In 
many  comparatively  trilling  particulars,  parents  con- 
template in  their  children,  in  very  early  life,  a  por- 
traiture of  themselves.  They  become  conscious  of 
ha  hits  of  which  they  were  not  before  gfcvare,  by 
beholding  the  miniature  transcript  in  these  faithful 
copyists.  It  is  so  in  higher  matters ;  in  the  intel- 
lectual and  moral  habits.  Hence  the  importance 
and  value  of  good  instructions,  and  a  good  example. 
In  both  parents  it  is  of  vast  moment;  for,  as  the 
united  effort  to  give  a  proper  direction  must  be 
doubly  efficacious,  so  the  failure,  on  either  part,  will 
tend  to  counteract  the  fidelity  of  the  other  part. 
But  especially  is  piety  important  in  that  parent 


10  PARENTAL    AND    FILIAL    DUTY. 

from  whom  the  child  receives  its  first  impressions ; 
who  traces  the  first  characters  on  its  ductile  mind, 
and  gives  the  first  impulse  to  its  onward  course. 
Early  impressions  are  proverbially  deep.  Good 
precepts  and  good  principles,  inculcated  and  in- 
stilled as  the  mind  is  first  developing  its  powers, 
are  perhaps  never  wholly  lost.  They  are  so  many 
lights  set  up  in  the  mind  to  direct  the  conduct 
through  the  maze  of  life,  and  they  are  seldom,  if 
ever,  extinguished.  The  giddiness  of  youth,  the 
blind  impulse  of  unruly  passions,  may  dim  their 
lustre,  and  cause  them  to  burn  with  a  faint  and 
flickering  flame ;  but  still  the  light  remains,  though 
nearly  gone,  and  something  may  rekindle  it,  and 
restore  all  its  purity  and  lustre.  When  the  tumult 
and  infatuation  are  over,  the  mind  may  be  calmed 
by  the  dictates  of  reason,  and  they  who  have  wan- 
dered far  *  from  the  way  in  which  they  should  go,' 
may  return  to  it,  and  not  depart  from  it  again. 
How  many  can  trace  to  the  faithful,  assiduous  at- 
tention of  a  mother,  in  their  early  instruction,  their 
having  been  preserved,  by  the  blessing  of  GOD,  from 
becoming  a  prey  to  the  temptations  which  have 
assailed  them  in  the  world  !  —  How  many  their 
having  been  led  to  pursue  the  path  of  religious 
wisdom,  in  which  they  have  found  their  highest 
happiness !  —  How  many  their  return  to  GOD  and 
duty,  when  they  had  gone  astray !  —  I  might  say? 
how  many  have  looked  back  on  the  early  neglect 
of  their  parents ;  or  on  the  bad  influence  they  had 
early  exerted,  with  deep  and  bitter  anguish;  if 


PARENTAL    AND    FILIAL    DUTY.  11 

not .  But  I  forbear.  They  to  whom  GOD,  in 

lii<  merciful  providence,  has  given  good  parents;  — 
who  have  been  blessed  with  the  early  counsels  and 
prayers  of  a  pious  mother,  cannot  feel,  with  too 
much  gratitude,  their  obligations.  And  on  them  I 
remark,  in  the  second  place,  a  great  responsibility 
rests. 

•.'.  You  who  now  enjoy  the  blessing! —  Children! 
whose  parents  are  diligent  in  forming  you  to  piety 
and  virtue,  and  in  securing  you  from  the  corrup- 
tions and  miseries  of  impiety  and  vice;  whose 
mothers  are  anxiously  sowing, and  anxiously  water- 
ing the  seeds,  which,  if  you  are  faithful  to  them  and 
yourselves,  will,  with  a  divine  blessing,  bring  forth 
the  rich  fruits  of  holiness;  let  me  tell  you  how 
much  you  are  favored,  and  how  anxious  you  should 
be  to  improve  under  the  pious  culture  you  are  re- 
ceiving; to  learn  the  lessons  of  heavenly  wisdom 
which  are  taught  you.  When  your  mother  is  en- 
gaged in  the  sacred  work  of  instructing  you  in  your 
duty  to  GOD  and  man;  in  teaching  you  to  be  good, 
that  you  may  be  happy ;  listen  to  her  instructions, 
think  of  them,  and  when  you  say  your  prayers, 
pray  that  you  may  be  all  that  she  is  thus  laboring 
to  make  you.  The  time  is  precious  to  you,  chil- 
dren, for  the  season  of  childhood  is  fast  passing 
away.  The  time  is  precious  to  you,  children,  for 
the  bud  may  be  nipped  as  it  is  opening,  or  may 
open  but  to  die. 

You  who  ha.\e  gone  out  from  a  parent's  guidance, 
and  look  back  upon  the  precious  hours  that  were 


12 


PARENTAL    AND    FILIAL    DUTY. 


given  to  the  counsels  of  parental  love  and  fidelity, 
how  great  is  your  responsibility !  How  much  have 
you  received,  and  how  much  should  you  return  in 
gratitude  and  holy  obedience!  Amidst  the  labors, 
and  cares,  and  temptations  of  life,  often  recur  to  this 
period.  Call  up,  again,  and  again,  the  lessons  you 
have  been  taught  by  precept  and  example ;  and  let 
them  still  admonish  and  guide  you.  If  your  parents 
are  alive  to  witness  your  faithfulness  to  the  obliga- 
tions they  had  imposed  upon  you,  it  will  gladden 
their  hearts.  If  they  are  gone,  you  will  have  the 
consciousness,  and  how  delightful  will  it  be  to  you, 
that  you  are  honoring  the  memory  of  those  to 
whom  you  owe  so  much. 

How  interesting  to  us,  my  hearers,  is  the  remem- 
brance of  those  early  counsels  and  prayers,  when 
they  who  offered  them  are  gone  from  us !  We  look 
back  with  a  melancholy  satisfaction  on  their  anxie- 
ties for  us,  when  we  had  no  care  for  ourselves ;  on 
their  solicitude  to  protect  or  to  warn  us ;  on  the  in- 
struction and  discipline  by  which  they  endeavored 
to  form  us  for  the  duties  of  coming  life;  on  the 
earnestness  with  which  they  spake  to  us  of  the 
pleasures  and  rewards  of  religion,  on  the  hopes 
they  indulged  of  the  progress  of  our  talents,  or 
from  our  good  conduct,  or  success,  from  our  duty 
and  affection  to  them,  and  our  fidelity  to  GOD. 

There  are  no  recollections  so  useful  to  us  as 
these.  We  should  often  call  them  up  to  our  minds. 
They  will  instruct  and  admonish  us  as  long  as  we 
live.  Who  of  us  that  has  had  a  pious  mother  does 


PARENTAL    AND    FILIAL    DUTY.  13 

not  bless  GOD  for  it  fervently?  How  sacred  are 
the  recollections  that  come  up  to  us  with  this  dear 
object  of  our  earliest  love! 

Has  our  conduct  been  worthy  of  all  that  has 
been  done  for  us  ?  Do  we  still  feel  its  influence, 
and  do  we  labor  to  revive  and  strengthen  it  more 
and  more  ?  —  We  must  answer  before  GOD. 

Alas !  What  shall  we  say  of  those  who  disregard 
these  recollections;  on  whom  they  have  no  influence 
to  guide  or  restrain  them?  If  their  parents  are  alive 
to  witness  their  conduct,  are  they  not  ashamed  to 
meet  them ;  to  converse  with  them ;  to  receive  favors 
from  thrm  .?  And  if  they  are  gone,  how  little, — 
thoughtless,  degenerate,  ungrateful  children,  —  how 
little  did  they  anticipate  this,  when  you  hung  about 
them  with  your  infant  arms,  answered  their  fond 
smiles,  and  lisped  out  the  first  broken  accents  of 
alleetion!  Oh!  that  you  would  have  compassion 
on  tin-in,  if  they  are  witnessing  your  conduct  \\ith 
unspeakable  anguish;  that  you  would  have  regard 
to  their  memory,  if  they  no  longer  witness  it;  that 
you  would  have  rne'-cy  on  yourselves ! 

3.  In  the  third  place,  how  great  an  obligation 
rests  on  parents  to  confer  on  their  children  the 
advantage  of  early  religious  instruction,  the  benefit 
of  pious  counsel  and  example ! 

Do  I  address  a  mother  who  needs  to  be  reminded 
of  her  duty  ?  Is  there  one  who  now  hears  me,  who 
forgets  that  she  is  intrusted  with  the  care  of  immor- 
tal beings,  and  that  it  is  for  her,  by  early  instruction 
and  discipline,  to  direct  and  guide  their  feet  in  the 

VOL.    II.  2 


14  PARENTAL    AND    FILIAL    DUTY. 

path  of  immortality  ?  Is  there  one  who  hears  me 
who  is  not  anxious,  above  all  things,  nexl  to  her 
own  salvation,  —  and  I  had  hardly  said  next,  —  to 
promote  the  spiritual  benefit  and  eternal  welfare  of 
her  children  ?  Can  such  a  mother  be  found  ?  — When 
'  the  dead,  small  and  great,'  shall  appear  before  the 
throne  of  GOD,  the  mother  who  has  been  faithless 
to  her  charge,  the  father  who  has  impeded  or  coun- 
teracted the  efforts  of  a  faithful  mother,  may  meet 
their  child ;  and  how  dreadful  the  interview !  May 
we  never  know !  May  GOD  enable  us  to  be  faith- 
ful ;  that  our  children  may  cherish  our  memory  with 
respect  and  tenderness ;  and  that  we  may  look  for- 
ward with  joyful  expectation  to  the  day  when  we 
shall  be  able  to  say  before  the  throne  of  GOD,  '  Be- 
hold, here  are  we,  and  here  are  the  children  thou 
hast  given  us ! ' 

Mothers !  would  you  have  your  memory  precious 
to  your  children?  —  would  you  be  embalmed  in 
then*  remembrance?1 — would  you  be  associated 
with  their  best  recollections,  blended  with  their 
highest  enjoyments  of  earth,  and  their  surest  hopes 
of  heaven  ?  —  Be  faithful  to  their  instruction  in 
piety  and  virtue. 

Christian  mother !  Never  despair  of  the  success 
of  thy  early  labors  for  the  spiritual  benefit  of  thy 
child,  whilst  life  remains.  They  may  seem  to  have 
been  fruitless,  but  the  time  may  come  when  thou 
shalt  reap  a  rich  and  joyful  harvest. 

On  a  foreign  shore,  friendless  and  solitary,  thy 
wandering,  erring  child  may  look  back  to  the  home 


PARENTAL    AND    FILIAL    DUTY.  15 

of  childhood,  and  hear  again  the  warning  voice  of 
maternal  tenderness ;  and  the  light,  thus  early  im- 
parted, may  burst  again  upon  the  mental  vision, 
and  serve  as  a  beacon  to  conduct  him  to  the  haven 
of  peace  and  safety. 

On  the  bed  of  sickness  and  death,  when  this 
world  is  passing  away,  and  another  world  is  open- 
ing on  the  view,  the  dreadful  picture  of  the  recom- 
penses of  guilt  which  thou  hast  portrayed,  and 
the  delightful  visions  of  heavenly  felicity  which 
thou  hast  gone,  perhaps,  long  before  to  realize,  may 
be  permitted,  in  the  mercy  of  GOD,  to  come  up 
before  the  awakened  conscience  with  an  overpow- 
ering energy,  and  thy  child  be  saved. 

Christian  mother !  Never  despair  of  the  success 
of  thy  early  labors  for  the  spiritual  benefit  of  thy 
child  \vh ilst  life  remains;  for  though  thou  shouldst 
nrviT  be  permitted  to  reap  thy  reward  in  this  world, 
thou  mayest  find  in  heaven  that  thou  hast  not  la- 
bored in  vain. 


16 


SERMON    III. 


PARENTAL    HOPES. 
Genesis,  v.  29.  —  THIS  SAME  SHALL  COMFORT  us  CONCERNING  THE 

WORK  AND  LABOR  OF  OUR  HANDS. 

To  know  the  heart  of  a  parent,to  indulge  the  over- 
flowings of  parental  tenderness,  and  to  enjoy  the  re- 
turn of  filial  affection,  is  a  privilege  and  a  blessing. 
It  was  a  natural,  as  well  as  a  pathetic  appeal, 
1  LORD  GOD,  what  wilt  thou  give  me,  seeing  I  go 
childless  ? '  Our  image  is  renewed,  and  our  memo- 
ry embalmed,  by  our  children.  They  are  a  part  of 
ourselves.  If  to  no  one  else  we  are  objects  of  re- 
gard, we  fondly  believe  that  our  children  will  care 
for  us.  The  anxiety  we  feel,  the  care  we  exercise, 
the  labor  we  exert,  they  will  not  fail  to  repay. 

If,  in  the  season  of  infantile  helplessness,  or  heed- 
less childhood,  or  inexperienced,  giddy  youth,  we 
cherish  and  protect  and  warn  them ;  if,  amidst  the 
diseases  to  which  their  early  life  is  subject,  we  de- 
prive ourselves  of  rest  and  recreation,  that,  if  pos- 
sible, we  may  secure  their  comfort,  and  promote 
their  recovery ;  if,  as  they  grow  in  years,  we  spare 
no  expense,  and  heed  no  privations,  that  we  may 


PARENTAL    HOPES.  17 

store  their  minds  with  knowledge,  and  fit  them  for 
respectability  and  usefulness  in  the  world;  if  we 
fail  not  to  instil  the  lessons  of  piety,  and  restrain 
not  our  prayers  for  the  success  of  our  instructions ; 
our  children  will  not,  surely,  be  backward  to  ac- 
knowledge the  claim,  or  to  fulfil  the  obligations, 
these  services  impose.  They  will  be  our  honor  and 
our  pride;  the  means  of  improvement  with  which 
we  furnish  them,  they  will  diligently  use;  and  if 
our  time  of  sickness,  or  helplessness,  or  dependence, 
shall  come,  they,  in  their  turn,  will  watch  over  and 
support,  and  cherish  us. 

Such  are  the  fond  expectations  that  are  formed ; 
such  the  bright  visions  that  are  raised  by  the  magic 
wand  of  hope,  in  the  prospect  of  the  parental  rela- 
tion. They  are  expectations  which  are  frequently 
fulfilled ;  they  are  visions  that  often  prove  real. 

But,  in  the  picture  of  the  parental  relation  there 
is  not  only  light,  but  shade.  How  great  is  the 
solicitude,  how  unceasing  must  be  the  vigilance, 
how  keen  is  often  the  disappointment  of  parent  s  ! 

I  grant  that  the  son  who  *  honors  his  father  and 
mother ; J  who  cherishes  for  them,  not  only  the  rev- 
erence which  he  owes  them,  but  the  watchful  solici- 
tude of  undissembled  affection ;  repays,  a  thousand- 
fold, their  early  anxiety  for  him.  I  grant  still  more 
that  when  filial  love  is  purified  by  the  spirit  of 
piety,  and  the  ardor  of  youth  is  controlled  by  the 
faith  which  overcomes  the  world;  the  affection  of 
the  child  goes  still  deeper  into  the  hearts  of  the 


18 


PARENTAL  HOPES. 


parents,  and  has  a  double  effect  to  cheer  the  even- 
ing of  their  days. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  granted  that  when 
this  filial  affection  and  tenderness  are  wanting,  and 
these  holy  fruits  of  early  cultivation  do  not  thrive, 
it  inflicts  a  pang  to  which,  except  in  the  upbraid- 
ings  of  a  guilty  conscience,  there  is  not  a  parallel. 
The  conduct  of  a  vicious  child  is  a  source  of  the 
bitterest  anguish  which  can  flow  into  the  heart. 

4  And  is  this  the  reward  of  all  our  care  ?  Is  this 
the  child  of  so  many  hopes,  of  whom  we  had  so 
often  said,  in  the  fulness  of  parental  love,  "  This  same 
shall  comfort  us  concerning1  the  work  and  labor 
of  our  hands  ?  "  Have  all  our  instructions,  admoni- 
tions, prayers  ended  in  this  ?  It  were  better  we  had 
never  enjoyed  the  delight  of  parental  affection,  than 
to  have  been  doomed  thus  to  experience  the  bitter- 
ness of  unrequited  tenderness  and  care.' 

It  is  happy  for  those  parents,  with  the  anguish  of 
whose  disappointment  no'  feelings  of  regret  and 
compunction  for  their  own  negligence,  are  mingled ; 
who  are  not  compelled  to  receive  themselves  a  por- 
tion of  the  condemnation  which  attaches  to  the 
conduct  of  their  child. 

We  rejoice  in  the  gift  of  a  child ;  but  it  is  to  be 
feared  that  there  are  many  who  do  not  fully  esti- 
mate its  importance.  We  do  not  receive  merely  a 
perishable  body,  which  is  to  be  fed  and  clothed  and 
cherished ;  but  a  mind,  which  is  to  be  cultivated 
and  improved ;  a  soul,  which  is  to  be  trained  up  for 
glory. 


PARENTAL    HOPES.  19 

To  an  unthinking  observer,  an  infant  may  present 
only  the  idea  of  weakness  and  helplessness;  or,  at 
most,  the  embryo  of  a  future  man  who  is  to  live, 
and  act;  and  suffer,  enjoy,  and  die.  But  to  the  re- 
flecting mind,  —  to  the  mind  of  the  enlightened 
Christian,  —  it  presents  an  object  infinitely  more 
important  and  interesting.  It  has  entered  on  the 
lirM  stage  of  an  endless  existence.  It  is  the  future 
heir  of  heaven  or  hell.  To  the  parents,  under  GOD, 
it  may  belong  to  determine  its  destiny  to  one  or 
the  other.  A  glowing  fancy  may  depict  —  no,  the 
-heart  of  man  cannot  conceive  —  the  awful  responsi- 
bility which  rests  on  those  to  whom  is  committed 
the  care  of  these  young  immortals. 

What  parent,  then,  but  must  pause,  with  deep 
and  solemn  awe,  on  receiving  such  a  charge,  and 
ask,  with  earnest  solicitude,  '  What  manner  of  child 
shall  this  be?'  '  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things ?' 
*  How  can  I  take  a  charge  so  responsible  ? '  '  How 
shall  I  perform  a  duty  so  arduous,  as  has  now  de- 
volved upon  me?' — There  is  a  resource  in  GOD, 
whose  'grace  is  sufficient  for  us,  and  whose 
strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness.' 

Important,  indeed,  my  friends,  are  early  instruction 
and  discipline.  It  was  part  of  the  commendation 
given  to  Abraham,  'the  friend  of  GOD,'  and  'the 
father  of  the  faithful,'  that  he  would  'command  his 
children  and  household  after  him,  to  keep  the  way 
of  the  Lord,  to  do  justice  and  judgment.'  To  Eli 
were  imputed  those  offences  of  his  sons,  which,  by 
his  authority,  he  might  have  restrained,  or,  by  the 
seasonable  induction  of  good  habits,  have  prevented. 


20  PARENTAL   HOPES. 

Those  of  you  are  to  be  congratulated  who  pos- 
sess the  consciousness  of  fidelity,  and  who  are  reap- 
ing the  reward  of  that  fidelity  in  the  good  conduct 
of  your  children.  Or,  if  your  children  have  escaped 
from  the  temptations  and  sorrows  of  the  world,  you 
are  happy  in  the  thought  of  their  security  from  evil 
in  a  world  where  '  nothing  that  defileth '  can  enter ; 
and  in  the  hope  that  you  may  meet  them  again  in 
your  Father's  house  above. 


21 


SERMON  IV. 


DUTY  TO  THE  AGED;  ESPECIALLY  TO  AGED  PARENTS  ; 
COMMITTED  TO  OUR  CARE. 

Leviticus    xix.    32.  —  THOU  SHALT  RISE    UP    BEFORE    THE    HOARY 

HEAD,    AND   HONOR  THE  FACE  OF  THE   OLD. 

HUMAN  life  is  compared  in  Scripture  to  various 
objects  in  the  world  of  nature;  to  the  natural 
day,  which  advances  from  the  dawn  till  noon,  and 
thru  declines,  till  the  sun  wholly  disappears,  and 
darkness  covers  us.  '  I  must  work  the  work  of 
Him  that  sent  me  while  it  is  day/  said  the  Saviour  ; 
Mhr  night  cometh  when  no  man  can  work.'  It  is 
compared  to  a  *  flower  which  blossoms,  withers  and 
dies.'  *  Man  cometh  forth  like  a  flower,  and  is  cut 
down/  In  the  text  there  seems  to  be  an  allusion 
to  the  seasons  of  the  year.  Childhood  is  the  spring 
of  human  life;  youth  its  summer;  manhood  its 
autumn;  and  old  age  its  \\  inter.  Then,  the  light  is 
feeble,  the  affections  lose  their  fervor,  and  time 
begins  to  snow  upon  the  head.  The  hoar  frost 
spreads  and  thickens ;  the  air  is  cold  and  piercing ; 
the  current  of  life  moves  slowly;  and  death  ap- 
proaches to  bind  it  in  icy  tVi  i  • 

'  Thou  shalt  rise  up  before  the  hoary  head,  and 
honor  the  face  of  the  old.' 


22  DUTY    TO    THE    AGED. 

There  is  a  natural  veneration  due  to  declining 
age,  which  all  feel,  arising  from  the  very  coun- 
tenance of  an  old  man,  and  from  the  superior 
wisdom  and  greater  experience  he  is  supposed  to 
possess. 

The  civilized  nations  of  antiquity  paid  much 
respect  to  the  aged,  and  instructed  their  children 
diligently  to  cultivate  this  amiable  virtue.  The 
men  of  gray  hairs  were  their  counsellors,  their  arbi- 
trators, their  judges,  and  then*  leaders.  In  peace, 
they  were  the  rulers  and  magistrates  of  the  state. 
In  war,  they  were  the  generals  who  commanded 
their  armies. 

Even  among  the  savage  tribes,  the  hoary  head 
receives  singular  honor.  It  is  the  business  of  the 
old  to  instruct  and  advise ;  of  the  young,  to  learn 
and  to  execute. 

It  would  seem,  then,  as  if  there  were  but  little 
occasion  in  a  Christian  audience,  to  enforce  the 
injunction  in  the  text.  Old  age  itself,  if  it  be  ac- 
companied by  a  sense  of  dignity  of  character,  and 
especially  if  it  be  *  found  in  the  way  of  righteous- 
ness,' will  command  a  respectful  attention.  Under 
these  circumstances,  we  naturally  'rise  up  before 
the  hoary  head,  and  honor  the  face  of  the  old.'  If 
these  circumstances  do  not  exist,  if  this  sense  of 
dignity  of  character  is  voluntarily  relinquished,  the 
same  respectful  attention  is  not  due,  and  cannot 
justly  be  expected. 

It  often  happens,  however,  that  it  is  involuntarily 
lost ;  that,  in  the  course  of  nature,  or  by  the  opera- 


DUTY    TO    THE    AGED.  23 

lion  of  disease,  the  powers  of  the  mind,  as  well  as 
the  body,  become  enfeebled,  and  a  second  childhood 
takes  place. 

Old  age  now  assumes  its  most  humiliating  form, 
and  appears  in  all  its  decrepitude  and  helplessness. 
Here  it  is  that  we  are  most  in  danger  of  neglecting 
the  duty  enjoined  in  the  text. 

When  an  object  like  this  is  presented  to  us,  in 
\vhich  reason  has  ceased  to  instruct,  imagination 
has  lost  the  power  to  charm,  and  memory  is  almost, 
if  not  wholly,  unable  to  draw  from  its  stores,  there 
is  danger  that  we  may  forget  to  i  rise  up  before  the 
hoary  head,  and  honor  the  face  of  the  old.' 

We  have  need,  then,  to  be  cautioned,  —  especially 
if  the  old  are  committed  to  our  care, — lest  we 
should  be  wanting  in  that  respect  and  attention, 
-which  their  age  and  condition  require,  when  they 
are  continued  for  some  time  beyond  the  period  of 
their  usefulness,  till  they  have  become  a  burden  to 
themselves,  and  there  is  danger  of  their  becoming  a 
burden  to  us. 

Let  us  remember,  in  the  first  place,  that  it  is  by 
the  appointment  of  GOD,  and  therefore  for  wise  and 
good  purposes,  that  their  lives  are  thus  prolonged. 

They  may  be  left  as  a  trial  of  our  virtue,  as  an 
example  of  the  frailty  and  imbecility  of  our  nature, 
and  to  teach  us  the  folly  of  human  pride.  They 
may  be  left  to  call  into  exercise  our  benevolent 
aileetions;  to  cherish  and  invigorate  our  Christian 
graces,  especially  our  meekness,  patience,  and  for- 
bearance. 


24  DUTY    TO    THE    AGED. 

They  who  have  arrived  at  extreme  old  age  are 
often  querulous,  impatient,  and  fretful.  As  reason 
has  lost  its  sway,  they  are  often  unreasonable  in 
their  wishes  and  demands ;  and  as  the  warmth  of 
the  affections  is  diminished,  and  the  sensibility  of 
the  heart  impaired,  we  do  not  always  discover  that 
sense  of  our  kindness  which,  under  other  circum- 
stances, we  might  justly  expect. 

Here,  then,  is  our  trial,  and  here  is  one  answer  at 
least,  to  the  inquiry  we  might  be  apt  to  make,  why 
a  life,  apparently  so  barren  of  good,  is  thus  length- 
ened out.  It  is  a  trial  of  our  virtue,  and  a  means 
of  strengthening  and  improving  it. 

It  may  be  that  it  is  a  parent  who,  in  this  helpless 
condition,  is  dependent  on  our  care.  Here  an  op- 
portunity is  afforded  us  of  making  some  return  for 
the  kindness  we  have  received ;  of  repaying  in  some 
measure  the  debt  of  gratitude  we  owe.  And  what 
child  that  had  the  least  remains  of  gratitude  or 
goodness,  would  not  delight  to  pay  off  this  great 
debt  of  nature,  to  pursue  this  round  of  filial  duty, 
in  a  conscientious  discharge  of  all  the  good  offices 
he  owes  his  aged  parents  ?  What  child  would  not 
regard  this  retribution  as  his  greatest  honor  and 
happiness  ? 

To  our  parents,  under  GOD,  we  are  indebted  for 
our  existence ;  for  our  preservation  during  a  state  of 
infancy  and  childhood ;  for  the  means  of  acquiring 
knowledge ;  and  probably  for  the  good  principles 
we  possess,  and  the  good  habits  to  which  we  have 
been  formed. 


DUTY    TO    THE    AGED.  25 

They  cured  for  us  when  wo  wore  unable  to  earo 
for  ourselves.  They  were  instrumental  in  shielding 
ii-  from  harm  when  we  were  weak  and  defenceless; 
and  in  supplying  our  wants,  when  we  were  unable 
to  express  them.  When  we  were  grieved,  they 
soothed  us ;  and  when  we  were  sick,  they  provided 
and  administered  the  remedies  which,  by  the  bless- 
ing of  GOD,  promoted  our  recovery.  Ho\v  many 
anxious,  watchful  hours,  how  many  sleepless  nights, 
have  they  had  on  our  account !  They  have  toiled 
and  labored,  and  denied  themselves  for  our  im- 
provement and  happiness. 

And  when  their  turn  of  dependence  and  weak- 
ifl  again  arrived,  shall  not  we  watch  over  them, 
and  provide  for  their  comfort,  and  smooth  their 
declining  path,  by  every  tender  and  assiduous  atten- 
tion I 

Shall  not  we  sustain  those  arms,  now  become 
feeble,  which  once  sustained  and  defended  us? 
Shall  not  we  patiently  and  perseveringly  guide 
their  footsteps  who  were  so  patient  in  guiding  ours, 
and  in  teaching  us  to  guide  them? 

Shall  not  we  bear  with  their  infirmities,  who  have 
so  often  borne  with  ours  ?  or  shall  we  be  weary  of 
their  impatience  and  fretfulness,  who  have  so  often 
experienced  impatience  and  fretfulness  from  us? 

Let  us  go  back,  my  hearers,  let  us  call  up  to 
mind  that  we,  ourselves,  were  dependent  on  them, 
and  were  feeble  and  helpless  as  they  are ;  and  the 
recollection  will  quicken  our  diligence  and  sweeten 
our  toil.  We  shall  delight,  in  this  change  of  cir- 

VOL.    II.  3 


26 


DUTY  TO  THE  AGED. 


cumstances,  to  fulfil  our  duty,  and  shall  cheerfully 
make  the  returns  of  filial  piety. 

'  Help  thy  father  in  his  age,'  says  the  wise  son  of 
Sirach,  '  and  grieve  him  not  so  long  as  he  liveth ; 
and  if  his  understanding  shall  fail,  have  patience 
with  him,  and  despise  him  not  when  thou  art  in 
thy  full  strength;  for  the  relieving  of  thy  father 
shall  not  be  forgotten,  and,  instead  of  sins,  it  shall 
be  added  to  build  thee  up.' 

'  Hearken  to  thy  father  who  begat  thee,'  says  the 
wisest  of  men,  i  and  despise  not  thy  mother  when 
she  is  old.' 

Despise  thy  mother !  Is  there  a  son  or  daughter 
who  now  hears  me,  that  does  not  feel  a  thrill  of 
horror  at  the  thought  ? 

Despise  thy  mother!  who  gave  thee  birth,  to 
whose  nurturing  care  thou  owest,  under  GOD,  thy 
preservation  during  thy  helpless  infancy ;  who  was 
thy  faithful  monitor  and  guide  and  counsellor  in 
giddy  childhood  and  inexperienced  youth ;  who  has 
felt  for  thee  an  anxiety,  and  manifested  a  tender- 
ness which  cannot  be  expressed,  and  who  still  feels 
for  thee,  —  old  as  she  may  be,  if  she  is  alive  to  one 
feeling  of  humanity,  —  a  love  of  which,  if  thou  art 
not  a  mother,  thou  canst  have  no  conception. 

Despise  thy  mother !  Even  if  she  were  degraded 
and  wicked, — which  indeed  is  not  to  be  supposed, — 
thou  must  pity  and  pray  for  her,  but  thou  must  not 
despise  her. 

A  mother's  love,  it  has  been  said,  is  the  love  of 
GOD  running  through  those  hearts  of  tenderness. 


DUTY    TO    THE    AGED.  27 

It  is  a  love  which,  to  a  'good  child,  is  inestimably 
precious,  and  will  be  fondly  and  fervently  returned. 

As  an  additional  motive  to  the  cheerful  discharge 
of  our  duty  to  the  aged  who  are  committed  to  our 
care,  let  us  remember  how  important,  how  essential, 
our  attentions  are  to  their  comfort  and  happiness. 

Religion,  if  they  are  capable  of  feeling  its  conso- 
lations,  is  indeed  their  best  comforter.  Yet  even 
religion,  though  it  may  lead  them  to  trust  in  GOD, 
and  to  bow  with  submission  to  whatever  befalls 
them  in  the  course  of  his  providence,  cannot  wholly 
assuage  the  grief,  or  dissipate  the  anxiety,  they 
must  feel  when  they  are  neglected  by  those  who 
ought  to  care  for  them.  But  they  may  be  unfitted 
for  the  supports  and  consolations  of  religion,  and  in 
this  case,  our  tenderness,  and  sympathy,  and  care, 
not  only  promote,  but  constitute,  the  only  enjoyment 
they  have.  Without  them,  they  must  be  miserable. 
And  shall  we  withhold  them? — Let  us  remember 
what  they  were.  They  whom  we  now  behold  bro- 
ken down  by  age,  and  oppressed  with  infirmities, 
were  once  as  active  and  vigorous,  as  wise  or  wiser, 
as  good  or  better,  than  we  are. 

Let  us  remember,  too,  as  a  further  inducement, 
and  the  last  I  shall  mention,  to  the  faithful  dis- 
charge of  our  duty  towards  them,  that  we  may  be 
in  the  same  helpless  condition,  and  require  the  same 
attention. 

Let  us  look  forward  to  the  period  when  our  fac- 
ulties shall  be  blunted,  our  imagination  extin- 
guished, and  we  ourselves  entirely  dependent  on 


*0  DUTY    TO    THE    AGED. 

others  for  our  support  and  comfort.  As  we  would 
wish  then  to  be  treated,  let  us  conduct  towards 
those  who,  in  this  sad  situation,  are  intrusted  to 
our  care.  Is  it  a  parent  ?  Let  us  watch  over  him 
with  fond  solicitude,  study  his  wishes,  accommodate 
ourselves  to  his  caprices,  bear  with  his  infirmities, 
and  render  that  period  tolerable,  which,  at  best,  is 
joyless. 

Should  we  neglect  our  duty  in  this  respect,  we 
may  justly  expect  an  awful  retribution  even  in  this 
world.  We  may  expect  that  the  example  we  have 
exhibited  to  our  children  will  be  followed  by  them, 
and  that  they,  in  their  turn,  will  be  unmindful  of 
obligations  which  we  have  not  deemed  sacred. 

On  the  contrary,  if  we  perform  our  duty  in  this 
respect,  we  may  be  assured  that  we  shall  not  be 
forsaken  in  a  time  of  old  age.  Our  feeble  arms 
will  be  upheld,  and  our  faltering  footsteps  will  be 
supported  as  we  descend  into  the  grave. 

I  congratulate  those  of  you  who  have  aged  pa- 
rents, in  the  opportunity  afforded  you  of  discharging 
the  sacred  and  interesting  duty  that  you  owe  them. 
And  I  congratulate  those  of  you  who,  having  been 
deprived  of  aged  parents,  have  the  sweet  remem- 
brance of  fidelity  to  the  claims  on  filial  duty. 

You  will  reap  a  rich  reward,  and  it  will  be  pro- 
portioned to  the  sacrifices  you  have  made,  and  the 
arduousness  of  the  duties  performed.  The  clouds 
of  adversity  may  gather  around  you,  but  they  will 
not  always  remain.  A  gleam  of  joy  will  brighten 
the  evening  of  your  days,  and  spread  into  all  the 
glories  of  the  celestial  world. 


DUTY  TO  THE  AGED.  29 

We  have  been  contemplating  in  this  discourse, 
my  hearers,  the  most  comfortless  period  of  hum; in 
life,  —  the  time  of  extreme  old  age ;  and  after  the 
view  we  have  given  of  its  helplessness,  and  of  the 
few  enjoyments  which,  under  the  most  favorable 
circumstances,  attend  it,  can  it  be  to  any  an  object 
of  desire? 

Let  us  submit  ourselves,  without  anxiety,  to  the 
disposal  of  Him  who  is  wiser  than  we  are.  Let  us 
faithfully  fulfil  our  duty,  and  then,  whether  our  heads 
are  ever  encircled  with  gray  hairs  or  not,  they  will 
rest  in  peace,  and  be  crowned  with  eternal  glory. 

To  conclude : 

The  intercession  we  have  been  led  to  offer  to-day, 
for  bereaved  children,  calls  up  to  remembrance  a 
portraiture  of  old  age  very  different  from  that  which 
is  presented  by  its  decrepitude  and  helplessness.  It 
presents  to  us  an  aged  mother,  venerable,  dignified, 
and  pious,  bringing  forth,  in  old  age,  the  fruits  of  a 
rational  and  virtuous  life;  retaining,  amidst  infir- 
mities, the  mind  clear  and  unclouded,  serene  and 
cheerful,  the  affections  of  the  heart  warm  and  una- 
bated, forgetful  of  self  in  her  solicitude  for  the 
welfare  of  others. 

Such  an  one  we  now  commemorate ;  an  object  of 
reverence  and  deep  interest  and  affection  to  her 
children;  troublesome  only  in  her  anxiety  not  to 
give  trouble;  returning  every  act  of  kindness  \viili  ;i 
look  and  an  expression  of  gratitude,  doubly  due 
from  those  who  performed  it. 

We  have  seen,  too,  the  devotedness  of  filial  af- 

3' 


30 


DUTY    TO    THE    AGED. 


fection,  —  children  devoting  themselves  to  the  care 
of  their  aged  mother,  proud  of  the  humblest  offices, 
and  pleased  with  the  most  difficult ;  watching  her 
wishes,  preventing  her  desires,  catching  every  pre- 
cious opportunity  to  be  grateful  with  an  eager 
solicitude. 

But  I  may  not  enlarge  as  my  heart  would  prompt 
me  to  do.  Thus  much  I  thought  it  not  unsuita- 
ble, but  proper,  to  say,  as  an  example  and  stimulus 
to  other  children. 

Such  duty,  as  far  as  the  opportunity  and  ability  to 
perform  it  exist,  is  due  from  all  to  their  aged  parents. 

They  are  favored  to  whom  this  opportunity  and 
ability  belong;  whose  parents  are  spared  to  old 
age,  and  thus  afford  them  the  privilege  of  doing 
something  towards  repaying  them  in  kind  the  obli- 
gations imposed. 

Pay  what  you  may,  children,  to  your  parents,  you 
will  still  be  their  debtors.  Do  what  you  may,  you 
will  remember  when  they  are  gone,  that  something 
more  might  have  been  done  for  their  comfort.  If  duty 
.has  been  neglected,  and  regret  comes,  there  will  be  a 
bitterness  in  the  regret  which  cannot  be  described. 
GOD,  in  His  mercy,  grant  that  it  may  not  be  the 
portion  of  any  one  of  you  to  know  it ! 


SERMON   V. 


CHEERFULNESS   IN  YOUTH   SANCTIONED   BY   RELIGION, 
AND  SHOULD  BE  HALLOWED  BY  IT. 

Eccles.  xi.  9.  —  REJOICE,  on  YOUNG  MAN,  IN  THY  YOUTH,  AND  LET 

THY    HEART    CUEF.R    THEE    IN  THE    DAYS    OF  THY  YOUTH,    BUT  KNOW 
THAT  ....  QOD  WILL  BRING  THEE   INTO  JUDGMENT. 

I  HAVE  omitted  a  part  of  this  verse.  The  whole 
verse  appears  to  be  addressed  to  heedless,  reckless 
young  men. 

It  begins  in  a  strain  of  irony,  and  ends  with  a 
solemn  and  awful  warning. 

If  there  are  any  such  young  men  who  now  hear 
me,  I  beg  them  to  read  the  whole  verse ;  to  ponder 
upon  it,  and  to  heed  the  warning  it  gives  them  ;  or 
the  judgment,  denounced  against  their  heedlessness 
and  recklessness,  will  assuredly  come  upon  them, 
and  may  come  unawares. 

The  passage,  as  I  have  used  it,  —  in  the  way  of 
accommodation,  —  is  a  sanction  to  cheerfulness  in 
youth,  accompanied  by  an  admonition  which  may 
serve  to  chasten  and  control  it. 

A  disposition  to  cheerfulness  is  a  part  of  our 
original  constitution,  and  is  therefore  implanted  by 


32 


CHEERFULNESS    IN    YOUTH 


the  hand  of  GOD.  It  is  innocent  and  amiable  in 
every  period  of  life.  It  is  peculiarly  appropriate 
and  beautiful  in  the  young. 

Youth  is  the  spring-time,  the  season  of  flowers, 
when  we  expect  to  find,  —  and  should  mourn  if  we 
missed,— -  the  delightful  characteristics  of  the  youth 
of  the  year. 

It  is  unnatural,  —  I  had  almost  said  it  is  mon- 
strous,— when,  by  the  severity  of  discipline,  or  the 
severity  of  system,  the  buoyancy  and  vivacity  of 
youth  are  kept  down,  and  impaired,  or  destroyed. 

They  have  entered  on  a  new  world,  with  affec- 
tions and  passions  fresh  and  ardent.  Every  thing 
has  the  charm  of  novelty,  and  their  youthful  spirits 
give  a  peculiar  charm  to  all  the  objects  around 
them. 

It  should  be  so.  It  is  a  beautiful  world  on  which 
their  eyes  have  opened.  It  is  a  beautiful  world  in 
which  they  are  appointed  to  dwell.  They  may 
admire  it ;  they  may  rejoice,  they  may  be  happy 
in  it. 

I  am  not,  and  never  have  been,  a  believer  in  that 
system  which  would  dress  up  the  gladsome  spirit  of 
youth  in  the  weeds  of  sadness,  and  convert  the  ac- 
cents, even  of  early  childhood,  into  mournful  regrets 
and  lamentations,  —  if  indeed  these  could  be  felt 
and  indulged,  —  for  the  deformed  scene  on  which 
they  have  entered,  and  the  deformed  natures  they 
have  brought  with  them. 

It  is  a  system  which  has  never  been  taught  in 
this  church,  whose  hundredth  year  is  not  very 


SANCTIONED    BY    RELIGION.  33 

distant,  and  which,  I  trust,  will  never  be  taught 
here. 

Rejoice  in  thy  youth.  Rejoice  in  youth  itself, — 
in  its  elasticity  and  lightsomeness,  its  activity  and 
vigor,  its  glowing  fancy  and  unrepressed  hope, 
adorning  every  scene,  stretching  the  view  over  a 
boundless  prospect,  and  gilding  all  with  sunshine. 
Rejoice  in  the  warmth  of  its  affections;  in  its  duc- 
tileness ;  in  the  facility  with  which  it  gets  knowl- 
edge and  receives  impressions;  in  all  that  is  de- 
signed and  fitted  to  make  it  enjoy  and  improve  the 
scene  in  which  its  Creator  has  placed  it  In  all 
this  rejoice. 

Rej< lice  in  the  privileges  and  blessings  which  the 
season  of  youth  affords.  In  its  dependence,  —  if  it 
be  so,  —  on  parental  care,  and  its  consequent  free- 
doin  from  worldly  anxiety ;  in  the  opportunities  it 
has  lor  irrttinir,  as  well  as  the  facility,  as  I  have 
said,  with  which  it  acquires  knowledge;  in  its 
sources  of  happiness,  with  which  experience  has 
seldom  mingled  the  bitter  waters  of  disappointment. 
In  all  this  rejoice. 

Rejoice  while  thou  art  young.  Be  as  cheerful 
and  happy  as  thy  disposition,  and  the  circumstances 
in  which  thou  art  placed,  incline  and  enable  thee  to 
be.  A  gloomy  spirit  is  not  the  proper  spirit  of 
youth.  A  gloomy  countenance  does  not  become 
thy  years.  Be  cheerful  while  thou  mayest.  Trou- 
ble will  come  fast  enough  without  thy  seeking. 
Rejoice  iii  thy  elasticity  and  activity,  and  warmth 
of  affection  and  susceptibility  of  impressions,  while 


34  CHEERFULNESS    IN    YOUTH 

thou  mayest.  Advancing  age  and  coming  events 
will  soon  enough  impair  them.  Rejoice  in  parental 
care,  and  in  the  advantages  and  enjoyments  of 
youth  while  thou  mayest.  Soon  enough,  —  alas  ! 
too  soon,  —  thou  canst  rejoice  in  them  no  longer. 

Yes,  rejoice  while  thou  art  young,  and  let  thy 
heart  cheer  thee  in  the  days  of  thy  youth.  The 
days  of  darkness  are  coming,  and  they  may  be 
many ;  the  "days  of  watchful,  anxious  solicitude,  for 
thyself  and  for  others  ;  the  days  when  thy  soul  shall 
be  tortured  by  suspense,  or  wrung  with  the  anguish 
of  disappointment ;  the  days,  in  short,  when  the 
troubles  of  life,  —  to  which  thou  art  now  almost, 
if  not  wholly,  a  stranger,  —  shall  come  thick  upon 
thee.  The  days  which,  —  if  thy  life  is  spared,  and 
all  other  calamities  could  be  escaped,  —  must  come 
at  last,  of  feeble  and  weary  old  age,  when  the  knees 
shall  totter  with  infirmity,  and  i  fear  shall  be  in  the 
way ; '  when  the  pleasures  of  life  shall  please  no 
more ;  when  life  itself  shall  be  a  burden,  and  *  desire 
shall  fail.' 

Rejoice,  then,  while  thou  mayest,  in  the  freshness 
of  youth,  in  thy  health  and  strength,  and  freedom 
from  anxieties  ;  but  know,  —  and  let  it  not  damp 
thy  joy  to  know,  —  that  '  God  will  bring  thee  into 
judgment? 

Rejoice,  then,  as  one  who  rememberest  that  thou 
must  give  an  account  of  the  sources  and  the  man- 
ner of  thy  joy.  Let  thy  rejoicing  be  such  as  shall 
not  bring  thee  sadness  in  reflection,  add  to  the 
weight  of  the  evils  that  may  befall  thee  in  life,  and 


>\\CTIOM:D     1JY     KKMGION.  35 

come  over  thy  soul  with  the  blackness  of  despair, 
when  thou  art  called  to  the  bar  of  thy  God. 

Let  thy  rejoicing  be  sanctified  by  religion;  reli- 
gion which  will  purify  and  elevate  thy  joy.  In  the 
season  most  favorable  to  the  exercise  of  pi«*ty, 
whilst  the  heart  is  alive  to  every  generous  emotion, 
whilst  the  marks  of  thy  Maker's  goodness  beam, 
with  such  unsullied  brightness,  from  every  object 
around  thee,  let  the  sentiment  of  piety  take  root, 
and  grow,  and  unfold  itself. 

1  Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy 
youth,  while  the  days  come  not,  nor  the  years  draw 
nigh,  when  thou  shalt  say  thou  hast  no  pleasure  in 
thrm.' 

Youth,  indeed,  like  the  Spring,  is  a  season  of 
hopes,  but  how  often  are  they  the  hopes  of  a  har- 
vest that  shall  never  be  reaped !  Youth  is  a  time  of 
health  and  vigor;  but  alas!  how  short,  how  uncer- 
tain is  that  life  and  strength!  How  soon  may  they 
be  supplanted  by  disease,  or  untimely  death! 

Look  at  that  weeping  parent.  He  has  lost  the 
son,  in  early  youth,  on  whom  his  hopes  for  many 
years  were  suspended,  and  whose  youthful  promise 
ill  that  a  father's  heart  could  desire.  *  Being 
perfected,'  however,  in  a  short  time,  'he  fulfilled  a 
long  time;'  for  honorable  age  is  not  that  which 
standcth  '  in  length  of  time,  or  that  is  measured  by 
number  of  years;  but  wisdom  is  the  gray  hair  to 
man,  and  an  unspotted  life  is  old  age.' 

Thy  days  on  earth,  young  man,  like  his,  may  be 
few  ;  hut  if,  like  him,  thou  art  virtuous,  like  his  thy 


86  CHEERFULNESS    SANCTIONED,    ETC. 

memory  on  earth  will  be  precious,  and  thy  reward 
in  heaven  immortal. 

i  Remember  now,  then,  thy  Creator  in  the  days 
of  thy  youth.'  Now,  for  thou  canst  call  no  day, 
even  in  early  youth,  thine  own,  but  the  present ; 
and  if  thou  dost  not  remember  thy  Creator  now, 
thou  mayest  never  be  able. 

Time  is  on  the  wing.  It  flies  to  return  no  more. 
Seize  the  moments  as  they  pass,  and  employ  them 
to  the  best  advantage.  The  time  that  has  gone  has 
left  a  memorial  of  thy  diligence,  or  thy  negligence ; 
—  thy  faithful  remembrance  or  forgetfulness  of 
GOD.  Let  the  time  to  come  leave  behind  it  a  bet- 
ter memorial  than  the  past.  Dedicate  to  GOD  the 
first  fruits  of  thy  life,  and  He  will  bless  thee  with  a 
fruitful  and  abundant  harvest. 

I  repeat,  and  thus  conclude,  as  I  began,  my  dis- 
course,—  'Rejoice,  O  young  man,  in  thy  youth,  and 
let  thy  heart  cheer  thee  in  the  days  of  thy  youth ; 
but  remember  that  GOD  will  bring1  thee  into  judg- 
ment? 


:37 


SERMON   VI. 


EVERY  SEASON  OF  LIFE  TO  BE  GIVEN  TO  GOD. 
Jeremiah  viii.  20.  —  TIJE  HARVEST  is  PAST  ;  TUB  SUMMER  is  ENDED  ; 

AND    WE    ARE    NOT  SAVED. 

THESE  words  are  not  used  in  a  figurative  sense. 
Jeremiah  beholds,  in  prophetic  vision,  the  calamities 
that  are  coming  upon  his  country. 

In  warning  his  countrymen  of  the  impending 
evils,  he  reproves  them  for  their  sins,  and  for  their 
thoughtless  stupidity;  which,  even  the  instinct  of 
the  brute  creation,  by  a  beautiful  contrast,  is  made 
to  upbraid, 

This  leads  to  further  threatenings,  conveyed  in  a 
variety  of  striking  terms. 

Upon  which,  a  chorus  of  Jews  is  introduced,  ex- 
pressing their  terror  and  alarm  at  the  news  of  the 
invasion,  which  is  greatly  heightened  by  the  pro- 
phet's hearing  the  sound  of  the  enemies'  horses, 
even  from  Dan;  and  then  beholding  the  devolu- 
tions made  by  the  invading  enemy,  whose  cruelties, 
GOD  himself  declares,  no  entreaties  will  soften. 

On  this  declaration,  the  prophet  bitterly  laments 
the  fate  of  '  the  daughter  of  his  people ; '  changing 


EVERY    SEASON    OF    LIFE 


the  scene  unawares  to  the  place  of  her  captivity, 
where  she  is  introduced  as  answering  in  mournful 
responses  to  the  prophet's  dirge. 

In  one  of  these  responses,  the  words  of  our  text 
are  included :  '  The  harvest  is  past ;  the  summer  is 
ended ;  and  we  are  not  saved.' 

The  daughter  of  Judea  had  been  anxiously  '  look- 
ing for  good,  but  no  good  came.'  The  summer 
passed  away,  the  harvest  was  gathered  in;  but  she 
was  not  delivered  from  her  captivity. 

The  variety  of  figures  and  images  used  by  the 
prophets  to  diversify  the  same  subject,  is  admirable. 
Nothing  can  be  found  to  equal  them  in  the  produc- 
tions of  uninspired  men.  You  go  to  works  of 
fancy,  my  hearers,  to  find  glowing  descriptions,  and 
striking  imagery.  Your  richest  storehouse  is  the 
word  of  GOD. 

'  The  harvest  is  past ;  the  summer  is  ended ;  and 
we  are  not  saved.' 

It  is  precisely  to  such  a  period,  as  is  here  de- 
scribed, that,  in  the  course  of  nature  and  of  Provi- 
dence, we  have  now  arrived. 

We  have  seen  the  blossoms  of  spring  unfold, 
and  the  fruits  of  summer  ripen,  and  the  harvest 
gathered  in.  But  we  are  not  compelled,  like  the 
prophet,  to  weep  over  the  desolation  of  our  coun- 
try ;  or,  like  the  daughter  of  Jerusalem,  to  bewail,  in 
the  house  of  bondage,  our  distance  from  the  land 
of  our  nativity. 

No.    '  The  harvest  is  past ;  the  summer  is  ended ; ' 


TO    BE    GIVKN     To    t.OD.  39 

and  we  are  saved;  —  from  'horrid  war,'  and  wast- 
ing sickness,  and  every  desolating  judgment. 

*  The  harvest  is  past ;  the  summer  is  ended ; '  and 
we  are  saved  from  the  stroke  of  death. 

The  goodness  of  GOD  to  us,  should  lead  us  to 
convert  the  words  of  the  text  into  the  means  of 
spiritual  improvement. 

Human  life  is  a  year.  It  has  its  spring ;  its  sum- 
mer: and  its  autumn.  Its  year  closes  in  the  cold 
and  cheerless  winter  of  death  and  the  grave. 

And  if  our  life  is  a  year,  what  are  the  seeds 
which  are  sown  in  its  spring ;  and  how  plentiful  the 
fruit  which  its  summer  ripens;  and  how  rich  the 
harvest  which  its  autumn  yields? 

Ye  who  are  in  the  spring-time  of  life!  Let  me 
direct  the  inquiry  to  you. 

What  provision  are  you  making  for  the  ad- 
vancing seasons?  Are  you  sowing  such  seed  as 
that  when  your  spring  increases  into  summer,  you 
will  bear  the  fruits  of  knowledge  and  piety;  and 
when  autumn  comes,  reap  a  harvest  of  satisfaction 
and  comfort? 

If  you  waste  your  youth  in  idleness ;  or  if  you 
pervert  your  youth  to  vice;  or  if  you  spend  your 
youth  in  thoughtless  inattention  to  the  duties  and 
obligations  of  religion;  there  can  be  no  hope  that 
you  will  bear  the  fruit,  or  reap  the  harvest,  I  have 
now  described. 

It  is  in  youth  that  you  are  to  prepare  for  matu- 
rity;  and  it  depends  on  the  preparation  you  now 
make,  what  the  maturity  of  life  shall  be. 
4* 


40  EVERY    SEASON    OF    LIFE 

Seriously  reflect  on  this ;  and  make  such  prepara- 
tion as  shall  render  your  mature  life  respectable,  and 
old  age  peaceful  and  happy. 

But  old  age  may  never  be  yours.  Your  days 
on  earth  may  be  few.  They  may  end  with  your 
spring-time.  Be  careful,  then,  to  crowd  into  your 
span  of  life  as  much  of  duty  as  possible.  Thus 
you  will  live  long  in  a  short  time ;  and  if  early 
called  away,  be  transplanted  into  the  paradise  of 
GOD,  ;  where  everlasting  spring  abides,  and  never- 
withering  flowers.' 

Ye  who  have  attained  to  maturity!  How  are 
you  spending  the  summer  of  life?  Is  it  like  the 
gay  and  gaudy  insect  which  flutters  for  a  season, 
and  disappears?  Or  are  you  weary  with  toiling 
for  that  which  affords  you  no  real,  enduring  satis- 
faction ? 

Alas,  this  season,  like  that  which  went  before  it, 
is  fast  elapsing.  As  you  labor  in  your  days  of 
summer,  so  will  you  reap  in  the  autumnal  harvest- 
ing. He  who  sent  you  forth  to  labor  will  soon  call 
you  to  a  reckoning,  and  fearful  will  that  reckoning 
be  if  you  have  been  unfaithful  and  negligent. 

But  with  many  the  summer  is  already  ended, 
and  the  harvest  will  soon  be  past.  What  are  the 
fruits  you  are  gathering?  Are  you  reaping  the 
rich  reward  of  a  well-spent  youth,  and  a  maturity 
devoted  to  GOD  and  duty?  There  remains  but  a 
little  time  to  you.  Whatsoever  your  hands  find  to 
do  in  the  work  of  salvation,  they  must  now,  more 
than  ever,  do  it  with  all  their  might.  Happy  are 


TO    BE    GIVEN    TO    GOD.  ll 

to  whom  'the  hoary  head  is  a  crown  of  glory, 
bein«r  found  in  the  way  of  righteousness.*  It  is  an 
earnest  of  a  tar  brighter  'crown  of  glory  which  shall 
never  fade  away.' 

The  year,  which  is  drawing  to  a  close,  reminds 
us  all  that  life  is  fleeting.  The  changing  seasons 
mark  the  silent,  but  sure  and  steady  lapse  of  time  ; 
and  it  will  be  wise  in  us  to  learn  the  moral  lessons 
they  impart.  They  teach  us  that  our  life  is  spend- 
ing; for  the  close  of  every  season,  and  of  every 
year,  brings  us  thus  nearer  to  the  end  of  life. 

Have  we  yet  begun  to  live  for  heaven  ?  Are  we 
so  living  that  we  have  no  fear  that  life  should  end  ? 
Let  those  who  have  been  negligent,  redeem,  as  far 
as  t  hey  can,  the  time  they  have  lost.  Let  those  who 
have  not  yet  chosen  whom  they  will  serve,  delay 
no  longer.  Time  is  flying.  Death  and  eternity  are 
close  at  hand.  If  we  live  well,  we  shall  die  well. 
And  when  the  brief,  transitory  summer  of  life  is 
ended,  and  the  harvest  is  past,  we  shall  be  able  to 
say,  '•We  are  saved;  the  reaping  angel  has  put 
forth  his  sickle,  and  we  are  gathered  into  the  store- 
house of  GOD.' 

4* 


SERMON  VII 


THE  GOODNESS  OF  GOD  IN  THE  DEATH  OF  LITTLE 
CHILDREN. 

2  Kings,  iv.  26.  — is  IT  WELL  WITH  THE  CHILD  ?  AND  SHK  ANSWERED, 
IT  is  WELL. 

A  BENEVOLENT  mind  does  not  confine  its  regards 
to  itself,  but  cherishes  an  interest  in  the  welfare  of 
others,  and  expands  in  kind  feelings  and  generous 
wishes  towards  them.  From  such  a  heart  the  ques- 
tion in  my  text  proceeded.  It  was  addressed  by 
the  prophet  Elisha  to  a  Shunamite  woman,  from 
whom  he  had  received  the  offices  of  hospitality  and 
kindness  in  his  various  journeys,  and  who  had  now 
come  to  him  to  seek  for  consolation  in  her  trouble. 
As  she  approached  his  dwelling  the  prophet  descried 
her,  and  in  his  friendly  solicitude  for  her  welfare, 
sent  out  his  servant  to  inquire  about  herself  and  her 
family.  '  Is  it  well  with  thee  ?  Is  it  well  with  thy 
husband  ?  Is  it  well  with  the  child  ? ' 

The  text  contains  her  reply,  — '  It  is  well?  Her 
child  was  dead.  He  had  gone  out  to  the  field  to 
his  father,  in  the  morning,  but  soon  returned,  com- 
plaining of  his  head  ;  '  sat  upon  her  knees  till  noon,' 
and  then  died. 


THE     GOODNESS    OF    GOD,    ETC.  \'\ 

It  was  an  only  child,  and  all  the  earthly  hopes  of 
its  parents  respecting  it  were  destroyed. 

The  pious  Shunamite  had  not  come  to  the  pro- 
phet to  utter  her  complaint.  On  a  former  occasion 
she  had  manifested  a  spirit  of  contentment;  and 
now  her  answer  to  the  inquiries  of  Elisha,  respect- 
ing the  welfare  of  her  child  is,  *  It  is  well. 

From  the  character  of  the  Shunamite,  and  from  the 
frequent  opportunities  she  had  enjoyed  of  strength- 
ening her  feelings  of  piety  by  intercourse  with  the 
prophet,  we  may  suppose  that  her  reply  was  the 
dictate  of  a  heart  which  bowed  itself  in  humble 
resignation  to  the  will  of  GOD.  Her  language,  — 
at  least  as  it  may  be  adapted  to  our  instruction,  — 
may  be  thus  interpreted:  It  is  well,  because  GOD 
has  done  it.  It  is  well  for  me,  for  there  are  many 
!  lessons  it  has  a  tendency  to  teach  me.  It  is 
well  for  the  child,  because  GOD  has  taken  it  to  him- 
self. 

These  are  powerful  reasons  to  the  understanding. 
May  they  tend,  by  the  blessing  of  GOD,  to  soothe 
the  hearts  of  those  who  are  in  like  circumstances 
with  the  woman  of  Shunem.  Partaking  of  the 
si  itV<  'rings,  you  partake,  I  trust,  my  afflicted  friends, 
of  the  spirit  of  this  pious  woman;  and,  like  her, 
can  say,  *  It  is  well.' 

1.    It  is  well,  because  GOD  has  done  it. 

'  The  LORD  reigneth.'     l  His  kingdom  ruleth  over 

all.'     Nothing  cometh  to  pass,  nothing  can  come  to 

without    His   permission.      *  Not   a   sparrow 

falleth   to   the   ground'  unnoticed    by   Him.     We 


44  THE    GOODNESS     OF    GOD    IN    THE 

hear  of  accident,  and  chance,  and  fortune;  but 
they  are  mere  words ;  they  have  no  meaning ;  or,  if 
they  mean  any  thing,  they  are  only  names  for  the 
unknown  and  inscrutable  operations  of  the  provi- 
dence of  GOD. 

Now  this  Providence  is  wise  and  merciful  in  its 
operations;  infinitely  wise  and  infinitely  merciful. 
Look  around  you.  Do  you  not  behold  every  where 
the  clearest  and  fullest  demonstrations  of  the  Di- 
vine wisdom  and  goodness  ?  Are  they  not  written 
every  where,  in  the  brightest  characters,  as  with  a 
sunbeam  ?  Contemplate  your  own  condition,  and 
acknowledge,  with  grateful  emotions,  how  much 
the  sum  of  your  blessings  exceeds  the  amount  of 
your  afflictions. 

If  you  every  where  discover,  and  in  circumstances 
innumerable,  experience,  the  kindness,  beneficence, 
and  compassion  of  GOD  ;  if  there  are  every  where 
the  clearest  indications  of  His  regard  for  the  wel- 
fare, and  his  attention  to  the  happiness,  of  His 
creatures,  will  you  not  believe  that  in  the  evils  of 
life  there  is  a  kind  and  beneficent  design?  Is  it 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  a  Being  so  good  would 
wantonly  inflict  pain;  or  that  a  Being  so  wise 
would  ignorantly  inflict  it  ?  Does  not  a  father 
chasten  his  children  whom  he  loves;  and  is  not 
the  chastisement  of  GOD,  who  is  more  tender  than 
the  tenderest  earthly  father,  a  proof  of  His  paternal 
tenderness  and  affection  ? 

Yes,  GOD  is  wise  and  good ;  infinitely  wise  and 
infinitely  good.  Every  thing  which  He  orders,  there- 


DEATH    OF    LITTLE    CHILDREN.  45 

fore,  must  be  wise  and  good,  wisest  and  best ;  and 
it  is  the  language  of  reason  as  well  as  of  piety, 
It  is  well  because  GOD  has  done  it. 

2.  It  is  well,  because  of  the  useful  lessons  it  has 
a  tendency  to  teach.  It  teaches  us  the  vanity  and 
instability  of  these  blessings. 

What  parent  is  there  who  is  able  to  confine, 
within  the  exact  limits  of  propriety  and  duty,  the 
affection  he  feels  for  his  children?  Who  can  say 
to  the  tide  of  natural  affection,  as  it  flows  out  to- 
wards the  objects  of  its  care,  its  solicitude,  its  labor, 
its  hope,  *  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go,  and  no  farther '  ? 
Who  can  exactly  regulate  the  workings  of  parent- 
al love,  and  fix  with  precisely  the  just  degree  of 
tension  the  cord  which  binds  a  child  to  a  parent's 
heart  ?  What  parent  is  there  who  always  remem- 
bers, what  parent  who  ever  realizes,  how  tender 
and  fragile  a  plant  is  committed  to  his  fostering 
care  ?  Yes,  there  is  a  time  when,  and  when  only, 
he  realizes  it.  It  is  when  GOD,  with  an  inexorable 
hand,  —  still  it  is  a  Parent's  hand,  —  roots  out  the 
tender  plant,  and  withers  the  bud  in  which  the 
colors  were  beginning  to  glow.  Then  indeed,  in- 
deed, it  is  realized.  There  may.  have  been  indica- 
tions of  its  fragility.  A  parent's  heart  may  have 
had  its  forebodings,  but  not  till  now  has  that  heart 
truly  felt  how  tender  and  fragile  it  was. 

Vain,  delusive,  transitory  joys !  Direct  your  eyes, 
my  friends,  to  another  and  better  state.  From  these 
'broken  cisterns'  turn  to  the  *  Fountain  of  living 
waters ; '  from  these  transient,  vanishing  meteors,  to 


46 


THE    GOODNESS    OF    GOD    IN    THE 


the  '  Father  of  lights.'  Fix  your  affections  where 
they  cannot  be  too  strongly  fixed,  '  on  things  above/ 
and  not  with  too  much  strength  and  ardor  on  things 
below.  On  things  above.  —  It  is  there  that  you  may 
find  again,  and  love  with  a  purer  and  stronger  affec- 
tion than  ever,  those  who  are  more  worthy  than 
ever  of  your  love. 

For,  3dly,  —  It  is  well  for  the  child,  for  GOD  has 
taken  it  to  himself. 

There  is  sure  ground  of  hope  concerning  young 
children.  Of  infants,  Jesus  said  ;  Suffer  the  little 
children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not,  for 
of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  GOD.'  And  those  who 
have  advanced  a  little  farther  on  the  journey  of  life, 
and  who,  by  their  sweetness  of  disposition ;  sim- 
plicity and  guilelessness ;  lively  sense  of  obligations 
conferred ;  tenderness  of  conscience  in  regard  to  any 
thing  that  might  be  displeasing  to  GOD  ;  have  be- 
come the  objects  of  our  fondest  love,  are  objects, 
also,  of  love  to  the  compassionate  Saviour,  and 
assuredly  have  a  place  with  those  of  whom  he  said, 
'  Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  GOD.' 

Fear  not,  Christian  mourners,  your  children  are 
not  lost.  If  you  aje  living  as  you  ought  to  live, 
they  are  not  lost  to  you.  The  cord  that  bound  you 
to  them  is  not  broken.  It  is  lengthened  out.  It 
extends  from  earth  to  heaven ;  forms  a  new  bond 
of  connection  with  a  better  world ;  and  should  draw 
you  upward.  By  faith  you  may  mingle  your  spirits 
with  theirs ;  by  faith  you  may  overpass  the  bounds 
of  mortality,  and  be  with  them  even  while  you  are 


DEATH    OF    LITTLE    CHILDREN.  47 

here.  You  may  love  them  as  you  have  always 
loved  them,  and  they  are  more  worthy  of  your 
alii vt ion  than  ever,  for  they  arc  purified  from  mor- 
tality. They  are  safe, — safe  witH  their  GOD;  treas- 
ures 'laid  up  in  heaven.' 

He  who  made  them  has  had  mercy  on  them.  He 
has  taken  Them  from  much  evil  to  come;  more,  far 
more,  it  may  be,  than  you  can  imagine.  He  has 
taken  them  to  great  good ;  to  a  felicity  which  the 
human  heart  cannot  conceive.  In  heaven  there  is 
*  fulness  of  joy,  and  pleasures  for  evermore.'  How 
much  is  contained  in  this  short  sentence  !  It  com- 
prehends all  that  is  included  in  the  idea  of  perfect 
happiness,  —  fulness  and  perpetuity.  On  earth  our 
joy  is  never  full ;  there  is  always  some  want,  some 
vacuity.  On  earth  our  happiness  is  never  secure ; 
there  is  always  a  dread  of  losing  it.  In  heaven 
the  joy  is  'full  and  everlasting.' 

The  Saviour  has  said  of  little  children,  that  'their 
anirels  do  always  behold  the  face  of  the  Father.' 
He  here  adopts  an  Eastern  phrase,  which  is  used  in 
reference  to  those  who  have  the  nearest  place  to  the 
sovereign.  They  are  said  to  '  see  his  face.'  And 
the  angels  of  little  children  are  admitted,  —  if  I  may 
say  so,  —  into  the  inner  circle,  nearest  to  the  Sove- 
reign of  all,  —  the  Source  of  life,  and  light,  and 
blessedness.  They  do  l  always  behold  the  face  of 
the  Father.' 

You  call  to  remembrance  the  little  history  of 
their  lives.  Many  passages  by  others  unheeded, 
were  marked  and  are  remembered  by  you;  and  all 


48  THE    GOODNESS     OF    GOD    IN    THE 

that  was  *  good  towards  the  Lord '  is  full  of  com- 
fort to  you.  It  is  an  anchor  of  hope  to  you,  and 
you  may  lean  on  it.  Whatever  was  marked  and  is 
remembered  by  you,  was  marked  and  is  remem- 
bered by  GOD.  He  who  had  begun  a  good  work 
in  them,  can  and  will  perfect  it. 

Admitted  to  a  higher  sphere,  they  are  adorned 
with  nobler  faculties.  Can  you  wish  that  these 
young  inhabitants  of  heaven  should  be  degraded 
to  earth?  Would  you  call  them  back  from  the 
sphere  of  such  exalted  services  ?  Will  you  sorrow 
for  that,  which  to  them  is  an  unmingled  source  of 
joy?  Will  you  utter  lamentations  for  that,  for 
which  they  are  lifting  up  their  fervent  thanksgiv- 
ings ? 

'  If  GOD  be  pleased,'  said  a  good  man,  '  and  his 
glorified  creature  be  pleased,  what  are  we  that  we 
should  be  displeased  ?  '  No,  rather  rejoice  in  their 
joy,  and  whilst  your  thoughts  go  out  in  search  of 
them,  let  your  affections  also  go  forth,  and  centre 
where  they  are. 

How  much  more  intimate  and  endearing  have 
your  relations  with  heaven  become  in  consequence 
of  their  translation  thither!  How  greatly  is  your 
interest,  too,  in  that  better  country  increased! 

Whilst  they  were  with  you,  they  were  among 
your  strongest  ties  to  the  world.  They  were  your 
companions,  your  comfort  and  hope,  in  this  house 
of  your  pilgrimage. 

The  comforts  of  a  pilgrim  are  transient,  but  if 
you  follow  them  with  devout  affection,  and  ascend 


DEATH    OF    LITTLE    CHILDREN.  49 

by  faith  to  the  world  of  spirits,  they  will  still  be 
your  companions,  and  comfort,  and  hope,  in  this 
house  of  your  pilgrimage. 

With  what  interest  must  we  all  think  of  heaven, 
where  so  many  who  are  dear  to  us,  have  already 
entered !  That  which  constituted  our  greatest  fe- 
lieity  on  earth  contributes  to  make  us  most  willing 
to  depart.  We  are  strangers  in  a  foreign  land.  The 
hour  of  our  departure  rises  on  the  soul.  Before  us 
is  a  country  peopled  with  our  kindred.  Our  parents, 
our  children,  the  friends  of  our  bosom,  are  there. 
Thither,  by  the  grace  of  GOD,  and  the  mediation  of 
Jesus  Christ,  may  we  follow  them! 


VOL.  II. 


50 


SERMON   VIII. 


THE  DIGNITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE,  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENT 
OBLIGATIONS. 

1  John,  iii.  2.  —  NOW  ARE  WE  THE   SONS  OF  GOD,  AND  IT  DOTH  NOT 

YET   APPEAR   WHAT    WE   SHALL   BE. 

WE  cannot  fail  to  perceive  in  the  world  around 
us,  we  cannot  fail  to  perceive  in  our  own  hearts,  a 
love  of  distinction ;  a  desire  to  elevate  ourselves,  — 
in  some  way  or  other,  —  above  our  fellow-beings. 

It  is  apparent  in  the  eager  pursuit  of  worldly 
honors,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest;  and  of 
worldly  wealth. 

It  is  apparent  in  all  professions  and  occupations, 
and  in  every  grade  of  society.  No  distinction  is  so 
high  that  ambition  will  not  aspire  after  it.  None 
so  low  that  vanity  will  not  seek  it. 

And  to  what  vice  and  folly  does  it  not  often 
prompt  J  What  wicked  and  degrading  passions, 
however  opposite  and  conflicting,  does  it  not  call 
into  exercise;  to  what  wicked  and  degrading  prac- 
tices does  it  not  lead  !  What  pride  and  haughtiness, 
what  baseness  and  servility,  what  strife  and  hatred, 
what  falsehood  and  slander !  It  has  broken  the  ties 
of  friendship.  It  has  destroyed  the  peace  of  families. 


THE    DIGNITY    OF    HUMAN    NATURE,    ETC.  51 

It  has  rent  a  nation  by  divisions.  It  has  deluged 
the  world  with  blood. 

And  yet  I  come  not  here  to  condemn  a  principle 
which  is  inherent  in  the  nature  GOD  has  given  us. 
I  would  lead  you  to  direct  it  to  better  objects  than 
any  to  which  worldly  ambition  can  aspire.  Turn- 
ing away,  in  this  season  of  sacred  rest,  from  the 
p-i^inij  distinctions  of  this  passing  world,  I  would 
dwell  on  that  permanent  distinction  which  GOD 
has  stamped  upon  the  soul ;  and  on  the  duties  and 
obligations  it  involves. 

There  is  no  worldly  distinction,  my  hearers,  no 
place  of  honor,  however  exalted,  that  will  raise  you 
so  high  as  the  one  that  is  your  birthright.  You 
may  impair  that  distinction,  by  seeking  '  the  honor 
that  cometh  from  men,'  but  no  worldly  distinction 
can  raise  you  so  high  as  the  honor  that  has  already 
come  to  you  from  GOD. 

The  poorest  and  humblest  person  who  now  hears 
me,  is  possessed  of  an  inherent  dignity  which  raises 
him  far  above  all  the  objects,  however  magnificent, 
which  the  world  can  afford  ;  for  he  has  within  him 
a  soul  which  GOD  has  made  in  his  own  image,  and 
which  is  capable  of  advancing,  forever,  from  per- 
frction  to  perfection,  from  glory  to  glory. 

*  WE  ARE  THE  SONS  OF  GOD.'  We  are  the  children 
of  HIM  by  whom  kings  reign.  The  Almighty 
Ruler  of  the  universe  is  our  Maker;  and  this  Al- 
mighty Ruler  permits  us  to  call  Him  our  Father. 

I  might  well  say  that  no  worldly  distinction  could 
compare  with  this.  And  is  it  not  wonderful  that, 


52  THE    DIGNITY    OF    HUMAN    NATURE, 

in  the  pursuit  of  inferior  distinctions,  and  often  of 
those  which  are  most  frivolous  and  chimerical,  we 
can  ever  lose  sight  of  this  intrinsic  dignity  ?  How 
is  it  that  we  do  not  esteem  it  above  every  other, 
and  direct  our  chief  attention  to  preserve  and  im- 
prove it  ? 

We  are  the  sons  of  GOD  ;  of  the  first  and  greatest 
of  Beings.  What  noble  and  elevated  sentiments 
should  fill  our  minds !  How  should  we  rise  above 
every  thing  that  is  low  and  worthless,  to  what  is 
dignified  and  elevating ! 

With  wrhat  diligence  should  we  cultivate  that 
understanding  in  which  consists  our  affinity  to  GOD, 
and  in  the  cultivation  of  which  we  approach  nearer 
in  our  resemblance  to  Him  ! 

Shall  that  mind  be  allowed  to  lie  waste  and 
barren,  which  is  an  emanation  from  the  SUPREME 
INTELLIGENCE  ?  Shall  that  mind  be  engaged  in  low 
and  worthless  pursuits,  which  is  designed  for  the 
attainment  of  the  most  important  knowledge,  and 
is  capable  of  endless  progression  and  improvement  ? 

Shall  the  paltry,  insignificant,  miserable  pursuit 
of  power,  or  of  gain,  absorb  those  faculties  which 
can  soar  to  heaven,  and  grasp  eternity  ? 

Renouncing  our  true  greatness  and  happiness, 
shall  we  pursue  a  greatness  and  happiness  preca- 
rious and  unsatisfying,  whose  foundation  is  in  the 
dust  ?  Disregarding  substantial  realities,  shall  we 
grasp  at  phantoms,  pursue  a  shadow  ? 

If  the  soul  must  be  confined  to  this  prison  of 
clay ;  if  its  relation  to  material  things  demands  an 


AND    ITS    CONSEQUENT    OBLIGATIONS.  53 

attention  to  them  ;  shall  it  not  be  mindful  that  it  is 
itself  immaterial,  and  sometimes  escape  to  breathe 
its  native  air,  and  dwell  in  its  own  element? 

Shall  place  and  office,  barter  and  exchange,  news 
and  politics,  tattling  and  gossiping,  be  the  con- 
stant burden  of  its  thoughts  and  its  discourse  ? 
Formed  for  eternity,  shall  it  think  only  and  speak 
only  of  time  ?  Formed  for  heaven,  shall  it  live  only 
for  earth  ? 

Children  of  the  Most  High  !  Do  you  forget  your 
exalted  origin  ?  Immortal  beings!  Do  you  disre- 
gard your  immortal  destiny  ? 

We  are  the  sons  of  GOD,  —  of  the  purest  and  best 
of  Beings.  How  pure  and  holy  should  be  the  affec- 
tions which  animate  our  own  breasts  !  How  should 
we  soar  above  every  thing  that  is  degrading  and 
corrupt,  to  what  is  ennobling  and  refined !  How 
carefully  should  we  regulate  those  passions  which 
are  intended  to  improve  us  in  the  image  of  GOD,  to 
qualify  us  for  the  eir-oyment  of  virtue  and  happi- 
ness here,  and  of  its  rewards  hereafter ;  which  are 
capable  of  the  highest  elevation  and  refinement,  and 
of  the  lowest  debasement  and  corruption  ! 

Shall  that  soul  be  allowed  to  become  tainted  and 
corrupted,  which  was  formed  in  the  image  of  INFI- 
NITE PURITY  ?  Shall  that  soul  be  engaged  in  vicious 
pursuits,  which  was  designed  for  the  attainment  of 
holy  affections,  and  which  is  capable  of  infinite  and 
unending  advancement  in  holiness  ? 

If  it  must  inhabit  a  tenement  which  is  of  the 
earth,  earthy,  shall  it  not  be  mindful  that  it  is  itself 
5* 


54  THE    DIGNITY    OF    HUMAN    NATURE, 

from  heaven ;  and  hold  pure  and  elevated  commu- 
nion with  the  FATHER  of  spirits  ? 

Shall  it  forget  that  He  who,  in  a  peculiar  sense, 
was  the  Son  of  GOD,  once  dwelt  in  flesh,  and  was 
subject  to  the  infirmities  and  temptations  of  human 
nature,  yet  '  knew  no  sin ; '  and  shall  it  not  sedu- 
lously copy  his  pure  and  spotless  example? 

We  are  the  sons  of  GOD.  How  much  should  we 
love  GOD,  our  Creator,  Preserver,  and  constant,  un- 
wearied Benefactor ;  who  discovers  his  paternal 
relation  to  us  by  unceasing  care,  and  the  most  sub- 
stantial benefits  ?  How  greatly  should  we  honor 
HIM  !  How  devoutly  should  we  trust  in  HIM  !  How 
cheerfully  should  we  submit  to  HIM  !  How  dili- 
gently should  we  serve  HIM  ! 

How  should  we  labor  to  promote  the  benefit  and 
happiness  of  those,  however  humble,  who,  like  our- 
selves, bear  His  image,  are  His  children,  and  equally 
the  objects  of  His  care  and  kindness ! 

The  distinctions  of  earth  will  soon  disappear ; 
and  none  remain  but  that  of  those  who  have  been 
improving  in  the  Divine  likeness,  and  those  who 
have  debased  their  native  dignity,  and  obscured  the 
image  of  GOD  in  their  souls. 

WE  ARE  THE  SONS  OF  GOD.  Such  is  our  station 
and  dignity  by  nature.  It  becomes  us  to  ask  our- 
selves,—  for  it  is  to  this  especially  that  the  apostle 
refers  in  the  text,  —  Is  it  our  station  and  dignity  by 
grace  ?  Have  we  been  '  created  anew  in  Christ 
Jesus  ? '  Have  we  the  spirit  and  temper  which  will 
secure  us  at  last  an  acknowledgment  by  HIM  with 


AND    ITS    CONSEQUENT    OBLIGATIONS.  55 

whom  nothing  that  is  unholy  can  dwell ;  and  who 
will  say  to  the  workers  of  iniquity,  '  I  know  you 
not?' 

Children  of  GOD  !  Heirs  of  immortality  !  Reflect, 
I  beseech  you,  on  the  exalted  station  for  which  you 
are  born,  and  act  as  becomes  it.  Reflect  on  the 
ft'lirity  for  which  you  were  designed,  and  earnestly 
and  unwaveringly  pursue  it. 

Strive  more  and  more  to  be  animated  by  a  sense 
of  your  real  dignity  and  true  happiness.  Indulge 
and  cherish  and  display  a  noble  ambition  to  render 
yourselves,  by  the  grace  of  GOD,  more  worthy  of  all 
that  GOD  has  done  for  you  in  giving  you  intellec- 
tual, immortal  minds,  and  providing  for  you  the 
means  of  their  improvement  and  salvation.  Labor 
more  and  more,  to  '  walk  worthy  of  your  high  and 
holy  calling,'  as  men  and  as  Christians. 

Having  received  not  only  immortal  natures,  but 
•also  hi<rh  and  precious  promises,  *  purify  yourselves 
from  all  filth i ness  of  the  flesh  and  spirit,  and  perfect 
holiness  in  the  fear  of  GOD.' 

*  Now  are  we  the  sons  of  GOD,  and  it  doth  not  yet 
appear  what  we  shall  be.' 

It  doth  not  yet  appear. 

It  is  natural  that  we  should  send  forth  our  inqui- 
ries into  the  world  where  we  must  shortly  dwell ; 
that  we  should  pass,  on  the  wings  of  imagination, 
that  boundary  which  the  disembodied  spirit  must 
soon  pass  in  reality  ;  and  speculate  on  the  nature 
of  those  scenes  in  which  we  soon  must  mingle. 


56 


THE    DIGNITY    OF    HUMAN    NATURE, 


Feeling  in  ourselves,  and  taught  by  revelation, 
that  we  are  born  for  another  destiny  than  that  which 
earth  discloses  to  us,  it  is  natural  that  we  should 
seek  to  learn  it  before  we  go  to  realize  it. 

Bereft  of  many  with  whom  our  souls  were  linked 
in  bonds  of  the  closest  affection,  it  is  natural,  —  nay, 
it  is  unavoidable,  —  that  our  thoughts  should  go 
after  them,  search  out  the  place  of  their  residence, 
and  contemplate  their  employments;  and,  if  they 
are  found  in  heaven,  join  in  their  ascriptions  of 
thanksgiving,  and  partake  of  their  joy. 

All  this  is  natural,  it  is  innocent.  It  may  be 
beneficial  to  us. 

But  how  little  can  we  know!  We  know  not 
what  they  are,  and  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we 
shall  be. 

Of  this,  however,  we  may  be  assured,  that  '  they 
who  by  patient  continuance  in  well-doing  seek  for 
glory,  honor  and  immortality,  shall  have  eternal 
life.' 

But  what  is  eternal  life  ?  They  shall  '  enter  into 
rest.'  But  what  is  this  rest  ?  They  shall  have 
1  fulness  of  joy.'  But  what  is  the  nature  of  that 
joy  of  which  they  shall  partake? 

'  Here  we  know  but  in  part.'  <  We  see  through 
a  glass  darkly.'  A  veil  which  no  mortal  has  been 
able  to  lift,  conceals  from  us  the  world  of  spiritual 
intelligences  into  which  the  souls  of  the  departed 
enter  when  death  has  stripped  them  of  their  mortal 
covering. 

We  may  indulge  curiosity,  but  it  is  in  vain.    We 


AND    ITS    CONSEQUENT    OBLIGATIONS.  57 

may  ^ive  the  wings  to  our  imaginations  ;  but,  after 
all  its  rovings,  it  will  return  to  us  void,  having 
found  no  certain  resting-place. 

Faith  may  ascend,  in  the  light  of  revelation,  but 
the  time  has  not  come  when  'it  is  lost  in  vision.' 

The  time  has  not  yet  come.  My  hearers,  it  is 
hastening  on.  It  is  urging  forward  its  flight.  The 
shadows  that  now  surround  us  are  fast  passing 
a\vay.  For  us  the  inexorable  doors  will  soon  be 
11  ii folded.  We  must  enter  that  prison-house,  and 
learn  its  secrets. 

This  spirit,  now  confined  and  weighed  down  to 
earth,  will  soon  be  dislodged.  '  Dust  will  return  to 
dii-!.'  Corruption  will  lay  hold  on  that  which  be- 
longs to  it. 

But  the  immortal  spirit,  which  tenanted  it,  will 
through  death  to  4its  own  border.'  We  shall 
thru  know 

Onimsi-imt  Being!     What  shall  we  know? 

In  infinite  mercy,  prepare  us  for  that  hour!  Give 
us  a  heart  to  love  Thee.  Give  us  grace  to  serve 
Thee ;  that,  when  our  faith  is  knowledge,  we  may 
know  that  we  are  blest! 


58 


SERMON  IX. 


CONSCIENCE. 
Romans  xiv.  13.  —  LET  us  NOT  JUDGE  ONE  ANOTHER  ANY  MORE.    BUT 

JUDGE  THIS  RATHER,  THAT  NO  MAN  PUT  A  STUMBLING-BLOCK,   OR  AN 

OCCASION    TO    TALL,    IN    HIS    BROTHEIl's    WAY.      HAST    THOU    FAIT11  ? 

HAVE   IT   TO  THYSELF  BEFORE  GOD. 
HE    THAT    ESTEEMETH    ANY    THING-    UNCLEAN,    TO    HIM    IT    IS  UNCLEAN. 

HE  THAT  DOUBTETH  IS  CONDEMNED  IF  HE  EAT. 
HAPPY  IS    HE  WHO    CONDEMNETH    NOT   HIMSELF    IN    THAT  THING  WHICH 

HE  ALLOWETH. 

I  HAVE  taken  these  words  from  the  fourteenth 
chapter  of  the  Epistle  of  Paul  to  the  Romans,  though 
not  in  the  order  in  which  they  were  written  by  him. 

I  request  you  to  read  the  whole  chapter  atten- 
tively and  seriously,  in  your  retirement. 

It  has  special  reference  to  a  case  of  conscience, 
which  had  occupied  the  attention,  and  excited  the 
scruples  and  animadversions,  of  some  of  his  Chris- 
tian converts. 

In  discoursing  from  them  at  this  time,  I  shall 
separate  them  from  the  occasion  and  circumstances 
with  which  they  are  especially  connected,  and  con- 
sider them  as  containing  a  moral  lesson  for  myself 
and  for  you. 

We  have,  in  the  text  and  context,  a  practical  rule, 


CONSCIENCE.  59 

applicable  alike  to  our  personal  conduct,  and  to  our 
treatment  of  others. 

If  our  brother  <  esteemeth  any  thing  to  be  un- 
clean ;'  if  to  him,  to  act,  or  to  refrain  from  acting, 
appears  to  be  criminal;  we  must  not  judge  and  con- 
demn him  because  we  think  differently.  He  may 
be  right,  and  we  may  be  wrong ;  and  if  he  is  in  an 
error,  he  follows  the  dictates  of  his  judgment  and 
conscience,  whose  dictates  he  is  bound  to  obey. 

We  may  do  what  we  are  able  to  enlighten  him, 
but  we  must  do  nothing  to  persuade  him  to  violate 
the  admonitions  of  his  conscience.  So,  on  the  other 
hand,  in  regard  to  our  own  conduct.  Whilst  we  re- 
frain from  censuring  our  neighbor  for  following  the 
guidance  of  conscience  in  doing  what  we  may  be 
disposed  to  condemn,  or  not  doing  what  we  deem 
innocent,  we  should  be  careful  to  regard  the  warn- 
ings of  this  internal  monitor  ourselves.  We  must 
do  nothing  that  we  believe  to  be  wrong,  though  all 
the  world  should  unite  to  do  it. 

The  rule  to  us,  as  well  as  to  our  neighbor,  is, 
*  He  that  esteemeth  any  thing  to  be  unclean,  to  him 
it  is  unclean.' 

Those  whom  we  respect  and  love,  and  who  are 
worthy  of  our  respect  and  affection,  .may  have  no 
scruples  in  this  particular  instance.  They  may  use 
arguments  to  convince  us  that  our  scruples  are 
groundless;  but  whilst  there  is  a  lurking  sus/ncion 
even,  of  its  sinfnlness,we  must  not  accompany  them 
a  single  step ;  for  '  he  that  doubteth  is  condemned  if 
he  eat.'  What  may  not  be  criminal  in  those  who 


60  CONSCIENCE. 

have  no  conscientious  scruples,  would  be  criminal 
in  us  who  have. 

We  stand  or  fall,  not  to  our  fellow-creatures,  but 
to  GOD  ;  and  we  must  take  care  that,  in  all  things, 
we  can  approve  ourselves  to  GOD,  who  knoweth 
and  judgeth  the  heart.  It  will  be  much  better  for 
us  to  deny  ourselves  what  is  innocent,  though  it 
might  afford  us  gratification,  than  to  act  in  opposi- 
tion to  our  sense  of  right. 

Afford  us  gratification !  No,  my  friends,  be  as- 
sured that  nothing  can  afford  you  real  pleasure, 
which  you  believe  or  suspect  to  be  wrong. 

It  is  only  in  the  consciousness  of  uprightness  that 
you  can  enjoy  happiness.  An  upbraiding  conscience 
is  a  source  of  perpetual  torment.  4  An  approving 
conscience  is  a  continual  feast.' 

Nor  is  it  only  in  refraining"  from  acting,  that  we 
are  to  heed  the  admonitions  of  this  faithful  moni- 
tor. What  an  enlightened  conscience,  —  I  mean  a 
conscience  enlightened  by  reflection,  by  serious  ex- 
amination and  inquiry,  and  by  the  word  of  GOD 
and  prayer,  —  prompts  us  to  do,  we  must  not  neg- 
lect. We  must  obey  its  impulses  to  act,  as  well 
as  its  warnings  to  refrain  from  acting. 

And  here,  in  the  eye  of  GOD,  we  stand  alone. 
We  are  to  be  judged  by  our  own  conduct ;  not  by 
the  conduct  of  others. 

Oar  neighbor,  our  friend,  may  have  doubts ;  but 
if  the  path  of  duty  is  plain  to  us,  we  must  follow  it. 

However  wise  or  good,  in  our  estimation,  may  be 
those  who  differ  from  us,  their  scruples,  —  though 


CONSCIENCE.  61 

they  should  make  us  hesitate,  and  inquire,  and 
seek  for  lii^lit  from  above,  —  should  not  control  our 
conduct,  unless  these  scruples  become  our  own. 

They  who  indulge  them  may  be  wise  and  good ; 
but  in  this  respect  they  may  be  less  enlightened 
than  ourselves.  The  prejudices  of  education,  and 
a  thousand  circumstances,  may  blind  their  judg- 
ment, and  prevent  them  from  seeing,  as  clearly  as 
we  do,  the  path  of  duty. ' 

There  is  a  sense,  however,  in  which  we  should 
regard  the  scruples  of  others,  and  be  influenced  by 
them.  In  things  indifferent,  we  should  not  do  what 
would  'give  offence/  or  'place  a  stumbling-block ' 
in  the  way  of  another.  It  is  better  for  us  that  we 
should  deny  ourselves  what  is  innocent,  and  what, 
in  ordinary  circumstances,  we  might  do  without  the 
reproach  of  our  own  minds,  if  it  grieve,  or  offend, 
or  injure,  another. 

Such  is  the  lesson  which  the  apostle  gives  us  in 
the  admirable  chapter  from  which  my  text  is  taken; 
a  lesson  which  he  taught  most  forcibly  in  his  own 
example. 

I  infer  from  my  subject,  in  the  first  place,  an 
admonition  to  parents. 

Whilst  they  do  what  they  can  to  inform  the 
minds  of  their  children;  to  teach  them  the  word 
and  will  of  GOD;  and  to  imbue  them  with  a  sense 
of  their  responsibility;  let  them  teach  their  chil- 
dren, by  precept  and  example,  to  listen  to  the  lowest 
whisper  of  conscience,  and  never,  on  any  occasion, 
to  violate  its  dictate-. 

VOL.    II.  6 


62 


CONSCIENCE. 


Let  them,  at  the  same  time,  "be  careful  not  to 
brand  with  the  stamp  of  guilt,  what  is  not  criminal. 
Let  them  not  write  '  unhallowed,'  4  unclean,'  upon 
every  innocent  recreation  in  which  the  gay  spirit  of 
youth  may  prompt  them  to  engage. 

By  so  doing,  they  tempt  their  children  to  sin ; 
by  tempting  them  to  disobedience,  to  artful  pre- 
tences, that  they  may  do,  what  they  cannot  now 
do,  —  when  it  is  forbidden,  —  without  criminality, 
but  what  they  might  otherwise  have  done  with 
perfect  innocence. 

Yes,  might  have  done  to  the  glory  of  GOD  ;  for,  if 
we  teach  our  children  to  glorify  GOD  for  the  recre- 
ations, the  innocent  enjoyments  of  life,  we  convert 
these  recreations  into  the  means  of  spiritual  im- 
provement ;  we  teach  them  to  love  that  kind  Parent, 
who  has  opened  to  them  so  many  sources  of  enjoy- 
ment ;  who  has  planted  these  flowers  along  the 
path  of  life,  and  allows  them,  if  it  is  done  with 
moderation  and  gratitude,  to  gather  and  enjoy 
them. 

I  infer,  from  this  subject,  in  the  second  place,  an 
admonition  to  children  and  youth.  May  the  lesson 
of  instruction  I  have  now  given,  be  deeply  im- 
pressed upon  their  minds ! 

You  have  heard,  rny  young  friends,  and  you 
cannot  but  feel,  that  there  is  a  monitor  within  you, 
which,  if  not  perverted  by  repeated  neglect  of  its 
admonitions,  will  not  fail  to  reproach  you  when 
you  do  wrong. 

You  have  also  heard  that  they  are  happy  who 


CONSCIENCE.  63 

condemn  not  themselves  in  that  thing  which  they 
allow.  Be  careful  to  do  nothing  that  your  con- 
science tells  you  not  to  do,  and  this  happiness  will 
be  yours. 

Hearer  of  whatever  age!  Be  ever  attentive  to 
the  feeblest  whisper  of  thy  conscience.  It  is  the 
voice  of  the  SPIRIT  of  GOD. 

Does  it  say  to  thee,  *  Forsake  the  evil,  and  live '  ? 
1  This  is  the  way,  walk  ye  in  it ! '  Slight  not  the 
warning !  Turn  not  away  from  the  directing  voice, 
or  it  will  cease  to  admonish  and  guide  thee. 


64 


SERMON  X. 


THE     UPRIGHT    MAN. 

A   CHARACTER* 

[Concluding  part  of  a  Sermon.] 

Job   XXvii.    5.  —  TILL  I   DIE,    I   WILL    NOT  REMOVE    MY   INTEGRITY 
FROM   ME. 

THE  exhibition  of  integrity  which  I  have  given 
you  in  this  discourse,  is  not  an  ideal  character.  In 
its  most  prominent  features,  we  often  meet  with  it 
in  real  life.  As  it  exists  in  the  world,  we  pay  it  the 
homage  of  our  respect  and  confidence.  When  it 
passes  away,  it  is  the  subject  of  mournful,  indeed, 
yet  pleasant  and  useful  recollection. 

Such  an  one,  —  a  man  of  tried  integrity,  —  whom 
none  could  distrust,  and  in  whom  all  men  placed 
confidence,  has  just  been  taken  from  the  midst  of 
us,  and  you  will  not  be  surprised  that  my  heart 
prompts  me  to  pay  him  a  brief  tribute  of  affection- 
ate respect.  For  more  than  sixty-four  years  he  has 
been  connected  with  this  society ;  and  for  thirty- 
seven  years,  without  the  slightest  interruption  of 
kind  feelings,  I  have  enjoyed  his  friendship.  I 

*  Thomas  Dennie,  Esq. 


THE    UPRIGHT    MAN.  65 

loved  and  honored  him,  and  he  was  worthy  of 
love  and  honor; — an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom 
there  was  no  guile. 

We  have  seen  him,  through  a  long  life,  perform- 
ing his  duties  with  conscientious  but  unostentatious 
lidrlity;  valuing,  as  he  ought  to  value,  the  good 
opinion  of  others,  but  most  anxious  that  his  own 
heart  should  not  reproach  him  so  long,  as  he  lived. 

Losing  his  father  a  little  before  he  reached  his 
majority,  he  was  cast,  under  Providence,  upon  his 
own  resources  ;  and  was  found  equal  to  the  respon- 
sibility. 

Accompanying  a  small  bequest  from  his  father, 
was  this  testimony,  —  inestimably  precious,  more 
precious  than  the  bequest  of  an  ample  fortune, — 
that  he  had  never  displeased  him.  Through  life  it 
was  held  by  him  among  his  dearest  and  most  cher- 
ished remembrances. 

And  let  me  say,  in  passing,  to  the  young,  that 
such  remembrances,  if  they  think  rightly,  will  be 
among  their  most  cherished  recollections  when  their 
parents  can  no  longer  be  the  objects  of  filial  duty. 
As  there  will  be  nothing  more  bitter  to  you,  my 
young  friends,  than  the  remembrance  of  any  thing 
you  have  done  to  displease  them,  so  there  will  be 
no  sweeter  satisfaction  than  the  memory  of  any 
thing  you  have  done  to  make  them  happy. 

At  an  early  age,  I  may  be  permitted  to  mention, 

—  and  no  good  son  of  a  good  mother  will  wonder 

at  my  mentioning  it,  —  our  lamented  friend  formed 

a  connection  which  contributed  essentially  to  his 

6* 


66 


THE    UPRIGHT    MAN. 


prosperity,  as  well  as  happiness.  '  The  heart  of  her 
husband  did  safely  trust  in  her,'  and  '  her  children 
rose  up  and  called  her  blessed.'  Her  good  sense, 
and  prudence,  and  judicious  economy,  came  in  aid 
of  his  own  intelligence  and  persevering  diligence, 
in  enabling  him  to  attain  to  independence,  but 
could  not  prevent  the  access  of  misfortune.  He 
failed  in  business,  and  having  paid  all  he  could  pay, 
received  an  honorable  discharge. 

But  this  happens  every  day,  and  if  this  were  all 
I  had  to  tell,  I  should  be  silent  on  this  subject. 
There  is  something  more ;  something  which,  from 
the  honor  it  has  reflected  on  his  character,  I  fear  is 
of  comparatively  rare  occurrence.  On  again  ac- 
quiring property,  —  notwithstanding  the  release  he 
had  obtained  from  every  pecuniary  obligation, — 
calling  his  creditors  together,  he  paid  them  their 
own  with  interest ;  leaving  himself  and  family  a 
bare  subsistence.  Providence  smiled  on  his  renew- 
ed efforts,  and  they  were  crowned  with  success. 

Late  in  life  he  became  a  communicant.  His  self- 
diffidence,  and  not  any  doubt  of  the  obligation  of 
this  ordinance,  having  led  him  to  defer  it.  It  was, 
perhaps,  in  part,  too,  the  consciousness  of  an  infirm- 
ity,—  a  hastiness  of  temper,  —  which,  however,  is 
often  accompanied,  and,  in  his  case,  was  most  cer- 
tainly accompanied  by  the  kindest  affections  and  by 
a  noble  and  generous  spirit.  And  yet,  where  can 
we  better  go  to  learn  a  lesson  of  meekness,  gentle- 
ness, forbearance,  than  to  the  Lord's  table,  —  to  the 


THE    UPRIGHT    MAN.  67 

commemoration  of  Him,  who,  'when  he  was  re- 
viled, reviled  not  again,  when  he  was  persecuted, 
threatened  not,  but  committed  himself  to  HIM  who 
judgeth  righteously  ?  '  His  last  sickness  was  a 
beautiful  exhibition  of  the  efficacy  of  religion  in 
affording  support  when  it  is  most  needed.  His 
trust  was  in  the  mercy  of  GOD  through  the  media- 
tion of  Jesus  Christ.  He  was  entirely  submissive. 
His  heart  was  full  of  gratitude  to  GOD,  and  of  kind- 
ness and  love.  Many  little  incidents  might  be  told, 
indicative  of  this.  They  are  treasured  up  in  the 
memories  and  hearts  of  those  who  most  loved  him, 
and  who  were  permitted  to  manifest  their  filial 
piety  by  watching  at  his  bedside.  It  is  due  to  them 
to  say  that  he  often  spoke  of  the  affectionate  atten- 
tions of  his  children,  and  of  their  children. 

*  A  good  man  leaveth  ah  inheritance  to  his  chil- 
dren's children ; '  —  the  inheritance  of  a  good  name 
and  a  good  example.  It  is  well  if  they  regard  it  as 
their  best  legacy.  It  is  well  when  they  aim  to  act 
worthily  of  it.  When  they  do  so,  the  memory  of 
his  virtues  comes  up  to  cheer  them  in  the  path  of 
duty.  When  they  do  not,  it  comes  up  to  rebuke 
them,  and  may  the  admonition  never  be  in  vain. 

And  now,  *  the  places  which  have  known '  this 
honored  and  honorable  man,  *  shall  know  him  no 
more/  We  shall  no  more  behold  that  venerable 
form  where  we  have  been  accustomed  to  see  it,  on 
the  morning  and  evening  of  the  Christian  Sabbath, 
in  the  place  from  which  he  was  never,  but  from 


68 


THE    UPRIGHT    MAN. 


necessity,  absent.  Never  more  shall  we  mingle  our 
prayers  and  praises  with  his  in  this  house  of  our 
solemnities  which  he  loved  so  well.  May  we  meet 
in  the  upper  temple,  and  unite  our  voices  in  notes 
of  praise  that  shall  be  lengthened  out  throughout 
eternity  !* 


69 


SERMON  XI. 


THE   FAITHFUL  YOUNG   MAN. 

A  CHARACTER.* 

[Concluding  part  of  a  Sermon.] 

.  10. — BE  FAITHFUL  UNTO  DEATH,  AND  THOU  SHALT  RECEIVE 
A  CROWN  OF  LIFE. 

I  CANNOT  allow  myself  to  close  my  discourse, 
without  dwelling  for  a  little  time  on  the  character 
of  that  excellent  young  man  who  has  just  been 
taken  from  among  us. 

I  owe  it  to  myself  to  do  this;  for  I  loved  and 
valued   him;   I  owe  it  to  you,  and  especially  the 
youth  of  tliis  society,  who,  by  the  contemplation  of 
his  character,  may  be  excited  to  resolve,  by  the  grace 
of  GOD,  to  *  go  and  do  likewise.' 

From  childhood  to  maturity,  his  conduct  was 
worthy  of  imitation.  At  school,  and  at  the  univer- 
sity, he  was  distinguished  by  his  simplicity,  his  sin- 
crrity,  his  benevolence,  and  his  exemplary  diligence. 

II  engaged  in  his  professional  studies  under  the 
direction  of  an  eminent  practitioner,  with  an  ardor 

*  John  D.  Wells,  M.  D. 


70  THE    FAITHFUL    YOUNG    MAN. 

which  was  an  earnest  of  future  excellence ;  and  this 
ardor  did  not  abate,  but  grew  stronger  and  stronger 
as  long  as  he  lived. 

He  had  scarcely  entered  on  the  practice  of  his 
profession,  before  he  was  called  to  lecture  on  anato- 
my and  surgery,  at  Bowdoin  College,  in  Maine ;  and 
not  long  after,  at  a  respectable  medical  institution 
in  this  state. 

In  the  first  named  institution  he  was  elected  a 
professor,  and  was  intrusted  with  the  important 
commission  of  selecting,  in  Europe,  a  medical 
library. 

This  commission  he  fulfilled  with  much  judg- 
ment, and  returned  to  contribute,  as  he  did  largely 
contribute,  to  raise  the  schools  with  which  he  was 
connected,  to  an  elevated  rank. 

In  the  mean  time,  his  reputation  as  a  lecturer 
continued  to  increase  and  extend  itself,  tih1  he  had 
attained  to  a  distinction  second  to  none  in  the 
branch  of  instruction  to  which  he  was  devoted. 

On  a  vacancy  occurring  in  the  medical  depart- 
ment in  the  University  of  Maryland,  which,  from 
the  eminence  of  its  professors,  had  acquired  an  hon- 
orable celebrity,  and  from  which  a  professor  had 
been  recently  selected  for  the  London  University, 
he  was  invited  to  become  a  candidate;  and,  though, 
he  had  powerful  competitors,  —  himself  an  entire 
stranger,  —  was  unanimously  elected  to  the  vacant 
chair. 

He  had  now  reached  an  eminence  to  which  few, 
at  his  age,  are  permitted  to  attain ;  and  might  look 


THE    FAITHFUL    YOUNG    MAN.  71 

forward,  we  might  suppose,  to  a  distinguished,  and, 
what  to  him  was  first  and  most  valued,  a  useful 
career.  He  was  destined,  in  the  Providence  of 
GOD,  for  higher  duties,  and  a  more  exalted  sphere 
of  honor  and  usefulness. 

When  the  tidings  of  his  election  reached  him, 
death  had  set  its  seal  upon  him.  The  fatigue,  inci- 
dent to  the  delivery  of  three  courses  of  lectures  in 
quick  succession,  at  remote  distances  in  the  places 
of  tlu-ir  delivery;  the  anxiety  attendant  on  success- 
ful competition,  and  the  journey  back,  to  commence 
a  new  course  of  lectures  at  Brunswick ;  destroyed 
his  life. 

Go  with  me  to  his  chamber. 

*  The  chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fate, 
Is  privileged  above  the  common  walks  of  virtuous  life, 
Just  in  the  verge  of  heaven  ! ' 

He  was  a  Christian.     He  had  studied  his  Bible. 

A  few  years  since  he  became  a  communicant  in 
this  church ;  and,  as  religion  had  been  his  constant 
companion  in  life,  it  did  not  forsake  him  when  its 
supports  were  most  needed, 

1 1  had  hoped/  he  said,  '  to  live  that  I  might  do 
good.  If  I  know  my  own  heart,  this  was  my  chief 
desire.  But  if  it  be  the  will  of  GOD  that  I  should 
die,  His  will  be  done.  I  trust  in  the  mercy  of  GOD 
through  the  mediation  of  my  Saviour.' 

During  a  part  of  his  sickness,  he  was  deprived  of 
his  si^ht,  and  it  was  doubtful,  if  his  life  should  be 
spared,  whether  he  would  ever  >ee  again. 


72  THE    FAITHFUL    YOUNG    MAN. 

It  will  serve  to  exhibit,  in  a  striking  light,  the 
influence  of  his  religious  principles,  and  his  confi- 
dence in  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  GOD,  to  men- 
tion that  he  was  calmly  planning  for  himself  a 
course  of  useful  employment  on  the  presumption 
that  he  should  be  blind. 

I  might  occupy  your  attention  for  a  long  time 
in  describing  the  holy  exercises  of  his  mind,  as  dis- 
played in  his  deportment  and  conversation  at  this 
period.  I  must,  however,  add  but  little  more. 

On  entering  his  chamber  on  a  certain  day,  he 
said  to  me  with  much  feeling,  i  I  am  greatly  dis- 
tressed. I  have  thought  I  was  dying,  and  my 
thoughts  were  all  of  GOD  and  heaven.  But  now  I 
think  I  may  recover,  and  the  world  has  come  in  to 
absorb  my  thoughts,  and  the  heavenly  visions  seem 
to  be  departing.  I  have  no  wish  to  return  to  the 
world  again.' 

When  a  friend  was  leaving  him  for  Brunswick, 
and  asked  him  if  he  had  any  thing  to  say  to  his 
friends  there,  he  replied,  '  Tell  them  that  I  am  dy- 
ing; that  I  die  in  the  faith  of  the  gospel  of  Christ, 
and  that  this  faith  is  every  thing  to  me,  —  my  sup- 
port and  comfort.' 

But  I  must  forbear.  In  being  thus  minute,  I 
have  deviated  from  the  course  which  I  have  almost 
invariably  pursued.  But  I  consider  this  case,  in  its 
combined  circumstances,  an  extraordinary  one,  and 
as  demanding  peculiar  notice. 

I  present  this  example  to  children  and  youth ;  to 
show  them  how  much  may  be  gained,  in  a  brief 


Tin:    FAITHFUL    YOUNG    MAN.  73 

period,  by  the  diligent  application  of  the  mental 
powers  to  some  useful  pursuit,  when  those  powers 
are  controlled  and  sanctified  by  religion. 

If  it  be  asked  to  what  lie  was  indebted  for  dis- 
tinction and  success?  I  answer,  not  to  his  talents 
merely,  but  to  his  strong  sense  of  duty,  which 
prompted  him  to  intense  application  and  unceasing 
industry, 

If  it  be  said  that  his  exertions  shortened  his  life, 
I  answer,  it  is  true;  and  in  the  intensity  of  his  ex- 
ertions he  erred,  and  is  not  to  be  imitated;  but  I 
also  answer,  that  he  lived  long  in  a  short  time; 
for  *  honorable  age  is  not  that  which  standeth  in 
length  of  time,  nor  that  is  measured  by  number  of 
years ;  but  wisdom  is  the  gray  hait  unto  men,  and 
an  unspotted  life  is  old  age.' 

1  He  being  made  perfect '  or  sanctified,  *  in  a  short 
time,  fulfilled  a  long  time ;  for  his  soul  pleased  the 
LORD,  therefore  hasted  HE  to  take  him  away.' 


VOL     II. 


74 


SERMON   XII. 


CHRISTIAN    HEROISM.* 

Romans  viii.  38,  39.  —  NONE  OF  THESE  THINGS  MOVE  ME,  NEITHER 

COUNT  I  MY  LIFE  DEAR  UNTO  MYSELF,  SO  THAT  I  MIGHT  FINISH 
MY  COURSE  WITH  JOY,  AND  THE  MINISTRY  I  HAVE  KECEIVED  OF 
THE  LORD  JESUS,  TO  TESTIFY  THE  GOSPEL  OF  THE  GRACE  OF  GOD. 

IT  is  Paul  the  apostle.  —  the  persecuted,  suffering 
apostle  of  Christ,  —  who  utters  the  words  I  have 
now  read  to  you. 

•  But  a  little  while  since,  he  was  himself  a  persecu- 
tor, i  breathing  threatenings  and  slaughter,'  and  pur- 
suing even  to  the  death,  the  devoted  followers  of 
Jesus. 

*  This  sermon,  written  in  the  ordinary  course  of  preparation 
for  the  pulpit,  is  only  a  sketch  of  an  important  argument.  The 
author  was  called  upon  unexpectedly,  with  the  notice  of  only  a  few 
hours,  to  preach  at.  the  annual  convention  of  the  Congregational 
ministers  of  Massachusetts,  a  service  to  which  he  had  been  appoint- 
ed for  the  following  year.  He  had  just  preached  this  sermon  to  his 
own  people,  and  took  it  for  this  occasion.  The  concluding  appeal  is 
here  retained,  in  the  hope  that  it  will  excite  attention  to  the  interesting 
class  of  sufferers  on  whose  behalf  the  appeal  was  uttered,  and  for  whom 
a  contribution  was  made  at  the  time  at  which  it  was  delivered.  The 
Congregational  Charitable  Society  was  instituted  for  their  relief, 
and  is  a  society  eminently  worthy  of  the  bounty  of  the  beneficent. 


CHRISTJAN    HEROISM.  75 

Behold  how  changed !  He  has  embraced  the  faith 
which  he  once  attempted  to  destroy.  He  has  as- 
sumed the  name  which  he  once  despised,  and 
rejoices  to  be  counted  worthy  to  endure  the  loss  of 
all  things  for  the  sake  of  his  profession. 

And  what  was  it  that  effected  this  astonishing 
revolution  in  tin*  sentiments  and  feelings  of  this 
di>t  inguished  man  ?  Was  it  ambition  ?  —  No.  He 
was  the  pupil  of  one  of  the  most  eminent  lawyers 
of  his  time  ;  himself  possessed  of  talents  and  learn- 
ing which  qualified  him  for  aspiring  to  some  of  the 
highest  stations  in  his  country,  and  that  country 
the  mistress  of  the  world. 

All  that  was  alluring  in  the  career  of  worldly 
glory  he  forsook.  He  averted  his  eyes  from  the 
bright  visions  that  had  doubtless  risen  before  his 
youthful  fancy,  and  turned  his  feet  into  the  humble, 
gloomy  path  of  infamy  and  death. 

Was  it  the  love  of  gain  ?  —  In  the  practice  of  an 
honorable  profession,  with  his  talents  and  learning 
and  ardor,  he  would  doubtless  soon  have  risen  to 
wealth  as  well  as  to  eminence.  But  what  was  his 
prospect,  I  beseech  you,  as  a  disciple  of  the  new 
religion  ?  Its  founder  had  led  a  life  of  poverty  and 
apparent  wretchedness,  and  the  band  of  followers 
to  which  he  joined  himself,  might  have  addressed 
him  in  the  language  of  one  of  them  on  another 
occasion,  4  Silver  and  gold  have  we"  none.'  Their 
wealth  was  comprised  in  the  irarmcnts  that  covered 
them,  and  the  implements  of  their  humble  calling. 

Was  it  the  love  of  ease  and  pleasure  ?    To  these 


76 


CHRISTIAN    HEROISM. 


he  might  have  aspired  before  he  became  a  Christian, 
but  his  own  experience  as  an  opposer  and  persecu- 
tor of  the  Christians,  had  taught  him  that  not  ease 
and  pleasure,  but  toil  and  suffering  awaited  him  in 
his  new  vocation. 

Examine  all  the  motives  by  which  worldly  men 
are  actuated  in  their  choice  of  a  profession  in  life, 
and  you  will  find  that  none  of  them  could  have 
operated  to  induce  the  disciple  of  Gamaliel  to  be- 
come the  disciple  of  Christ.  No.  It  was  a  convic- 
tion of  the  truth  of  the  cause  he  espoused ;  a  con- 
viction produced  by  a  miraculous  intervention  of 
Divine  agency. 

At  the  moment  when  his  zeal  against  the  religion 
of  Christ  is  at  its  height,  when  he  is  on  his  way 
from  one  city  to  another,  to  seize  and  imprison  and 
destroy  its  votaries,  at  such  a  moment,  and  under 
such  circumstances,  he  is  arrested  in  his  course,  and 
the  whole  current  of  his  thoughts  and  feelings  and 
purposes  changed.  The  hand  of  Him  whom  he  had 
persecuted  was  stretched  forth  to  lead  him  out  of 
the  darkness  in  which  he  wandered,  into  i  marvellous 

light.' 

At  mid-day,  —  when  the  sun  shone  the  brightest, 
—  a  brighter  light  than  that  of  the  sun,  in  his  me- 
ridian splendor,  burst  upon  him.  Overpowered  by 
the  radiance,  he  fell  to  the  earth,  and  heard  a  voice, 
not  of  anger,  but  of  pity  and  affectionate  expostu- 
lation. It  was  the  voice  of  Jesus,  calling  him  from 
the  mad  and  cruel  pursuit  in  which  he  was  engaged, 
to  be  the  advocate  of  a  better  cause ;  to  renounce 


CHRISTIAN    HEROISM.  77 

the  honor  and  reward  of  a  zealous  persecutor,  for  a 
crown  of  martyrdom. 

4 1  have  appeared  unto  thee  for  this  purpose,  to 
make  thee  a  minister  and  a  witness,  both  of  these 
things  which  thou  hast  seen,  and  of  those  things  in 
the  which  I  will  appear  unto  thee.  Delivering  thee 
from  the  people  and  the  Gentiles,  unto  whom  I 
now  send  thee,  to  open  their  eyes,  and  to  turn  them 
from  darkness  to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan 
to  God,  that  they  may  receive  the  forgiveness  of 
HIIS,  and  an  inheritance  among  them  that  are  sanc- 
liiird,  through  faith  that  is  in  me.1 

And  now  he  consults  not  with  flesh  and  blood. 
His  eyes  had  beheld  celestial  light,  and  he  must 
follow  its  guidance.  His  ears  had  heard  the  voice 
of  the  risen,  ascended  Saviour,  and  he  must  obey. 
He  throws  aside  the  weapons  of  his  warfare,  and 
<rirds  himself  with  truth,  and  puts  on  the  *  armor  of 
righteousne^.'  and  goes  forth  to  contend  with  spir- 
itual enemies ;  to  overturn  the  empire  of  vice  and 
wickedness,  and  to  establish  '  a  kingdom  that  is  not 
of  this  world.' 

As  the  despised  disciple  of  a  despised  Nazarene, 
he  feels  a  moral  dignity  which  he  had  never  felt 
before,  and  enjoys  a  peace  which  the  world  could 
not  give,  nor  take  away.  He  is  conscious  that  he 
has  espoused  the  cause  of  truth  and  virtue,  and  in 
this  panoply  he  feels  himself  secure.  The  honors, 
and  treasures,  and  enjoyments  of  the  world  have  no 
attractions  for  him  now.  His  reward  is  on  high. 
4  The  honor  that  cometh  from  GOD,'  imperishable, 

7* 


78 


CHRISTIAN    HEROISM. 


immortal ;  the  treasures  of  His  grace  and  love, 
inexhaustible  ;  the  enjoyments  of  heaven,  unfad- 
ing, eternal.  These  are  his,  and  he  will  not  ex- 
change thenij —  No !  he  will  not  exchange  them  for 
all  that  the  world  can  give  him.  It  has  nothing 
valuable  enough  to  tempt  him ;  it  has  nothing  ap- 
palling enough  to  frighten  him  from  his  holy  pur- 
pose. He  may  well  say  then,  as  he  did,  for  himself 
and  his  fellow-disciples,  '  I  am  persuaded  that 
neither  life  nor  death,  nor  principalities  nor  powers, 
nor  height  nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall 
be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  GOD  in 
Christ  Jesus  our  Lord.' 

The  strength  of  his  resolution  had  been  tested, 
he  had  faced  death  in  every  form,  and  in  all  times 
of  suffering  and  danger  could  say,  '  None  of  these 
things  move  me,  neither  count  I  my  life  dear  unto 
myself,  that  I  may  finish  my  course  with  joy,  and 
the  ministry  that  I  have  received  of  the  Lord,  to 
testify  the  Gospel  of  the  grace  of  GOD.' 

His  course  is  finished.  It  is  finished  '  with  joy.' 
He  had  '  fought  a  good  fight,  and  kept  the  faith,' 
and  has  received  '  the  crown  of  righteousness,'  that 
was  '  laid  up '  for  him  '  in  heaven.'  He  is  encircled 
with  a  far  brighter  glory  than  that  which  surround- 
ed him  on  the  way  to  Damascus. 

Christian !  examine  thyself,  and  see  how  much 
of  the  spirit  of  this  devoted  disciple  dwells  in  thee. 

What  value  have  the  things  of  this  world  in  thy 
estimation,  compared  with  the  things  that  are 
unseen  and  eternal  ?  —  With  what  patience  dost 


CHRISTIAN    HEROISM.  79 

thou  bear  the  injuries,  with  what  firmness  dost  thou 
meet  the  dangers,  with  what  submission  dost  thou 
endure  the  sufferings  to  which  thou  art  called? 
Born  in  a  Christian  land,  and  educated  in  the 
knowledge  of  those  glorious  truths  for  which  this 
apostle  contended  so  earnestly,  labored  so  diligently, 
endured  so  patiently,  —  for  which  he  was  willing  to 
live  inA  poverty  and  wretchedness,  and  die  in  tor- 
ture, Christian  !  dost  thou  prize  this  religion  as  thy 
greatest  treasure,  follow  it  as  thy  surest  guide,  cling 
to  it  as  thine  only  ark  of  safety,  and  count  all  things 
but '  loss '  for  the  excellency  of  its  knowledge  and 
the  worth  of  its  possession  ? 

It  is  indeed  thy  greatest  treasure,  thy  surest 
guide,  and  thine  only  ark  of  safety.  Amidst  the 
vexations,  disappointments  and  sufferings  of  life,  it 
is  tliis  alone  that  can  afford  thee  adequate  support 
and  consolation.  If  thou  hast  truly  embraced  it, 
none  of  these  things  will  greatly  move  thee.  For  a 
time  they  may  interrupt,  but  they  will  not  destroy 
thy  peace.  In  the  sanctuary  which  religion  has 
opened,  thou  art  beyond  their  power  to  harm  thee. 

Christian  minister !  Examine  thyself,  and  see  how 
much  of  the  spirit  of  this  devoted  disciple  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  dwells  in  thee.  Art  thou  ready  to  make 
any  sacrifice,  to  endure  any  hardship,  to  suffer  any 
privation,  to  sustain  any  reproach,  for- thy  Master's 
S;,1N(.  i  —  Dost  thou  not,  from  fear,  or  favor.  k  shun  to 
declare  the  whole  counsel  of  GOD,  whether  they 
will  hear,  or  whether  they  will  forbear'? 


80 


CHRISTIAN    HEROISM. 


Dost  thou  not,  from  dread  of  censure,  or  love  of 
applause,  i  keep  back  any  thing  that  is  profitable '  ? 

In  short,  dost  thou  '  take  up  thy  cross/  and  do 
thy  duty,  through  good  report  and  evil  report,  '  not 
counting  even  thy  life  dear  unto  thyself,  if  thou 
canst  finish  thy  course  with  joy,  and  the  ministry 
that  thou  hast  received  from  the  Lord  Jesus,  to 
testify  the  Gospel  of  the  grace  of  GOD  '  ?  m 

There  is  a  voice,  powerful  and  emphatic,  issuing 
from  the  tomb,  and  urging  us  to  duty.  There  is  a 
voice,  powerful  and  emphatic,  issuing  from  the 
abodes  of  the  blessed,  and  urging  us  to  duty. 

It  comes  from  the  tombs  of  our  deceased  breth- 
ren. It  comes  from  the  abode  to  which  their  un- 
fettered souls  have  ascended. 

Our  brethren  have  '  rested  from  their  labors.' 
Then:  work  on  earth  is  finished.  Their  trials  are 
ended. 

We  pay  a  passing  tribute  of  respect  to  their 
memory;  utter  our  mournful  regrets  that  in  the 
places  where  we  have  been  accustomed  to  see  them, 
we  shall  see  them  no  more,  and,  with  us,  it  is  over. 

But  there  are  those  with  whom  it  is  not  so.  It 
is  not  so  with  those  who  shared  in  their  labors  and 
cares,  and  whose  love  and  sympathy  divided  and 
lightened  the  weight  of  their  pressure.  No.  It  is 
not  so  with  them.  They  feel,  in  the  lowest  depths 
of  their  souls,  their  sad  bereavement. 

The  heart  that  beat  responsive  to  their  affection 
and  tenderness,  has  ceased  to  beat  at  all.  The  arm 
on  which  they  leaned  for  support  can  no  longer 


CHRISTIAN    HEROISM.  81 

support  them.  They  are  widows.  Ah  !  how  much 
of  sorrow  and  desolateness  is  there  in  that  word  ! 

Some  of  them  are  aged  and  infirm ;  not  a  few  of 
tlirin  are  poor.  Of  one,  the  report  that  reaches  us 
is  that  her  whole  annual  income  is  five  dollars.  Of 
another,  that  her  proportion  of  the  contribution 
which  is  made  at  this  season,  is  all  that  keeps  her 
from  the  almshouse. 

I  plead  with  yon,  this  day,  on  their  behalf.  O, 
how  powerful  would  be  the  plea  if,  instead  of  utter- 
inir  my  feeble  exhortation  in  their  cause,  I  could 
bring  before  you  the  destitute  children  of  these 
widows,  TO  utter  in  your  hearing,  from  that  sacred 
book  which  their  fathers  taught,  a  more  persuasive 
appeal  than  art  or  eloquence  could  invent;  and 
which  would  not  fail  to  reach  your  hearts ! 

WE      ARE  .  ORPHANS,      AND      FATHERLESS.          OUR 
MOTHERS  ARE  AS  WIDOWS. 


82 


SERMON  XIII. 


PRAYER. 

Psalm  cxlv.  —THE  LORD  is  NIGH  UNTO  ALL  THEM  THAT  CALL  UPON 

HIM,  TO  ALL  THAT  CALL  UPON  HIM  IN  TRUTH. 

You  are  often  reminded  in  this  place,  —  and  not 
in  this  place  only,  —  of  the  nature,  the  obligation, 
and  the  benefit  of  prayer. 

So  long  as  man  is  ignorant,  and  needs  to  be 
enlightened;  weak,  and  needs  to  be  strengthened^ 
sinful,  and  needs  to  be  forgiven ;  so  long  will  a 
frequent  recurrence  to  this  topic  be  necessary  and 
beneficial. 

It  is  Divine  Wisdom  that  must  enlighten  our 
ignorance.  It  is  Divine  Power  that  must  strength- 
en our  weakness.  It  is  Divine  Compassion  that 
must  pardon  our  offences ;  and,  if  we  desire  light, 
strength  and  pardon,  we  must  pray.  It  is  prayer 
that  furnishes  the  panoply  against  the  force  of  temp- 
tation, and  the  wings  on  which  we  ascend  to 
heaven. 

Every  relation  that  we  bear  to  GOD  ;  every  per- 
fection of  His  glorious  character ;  every  attribute  of 
our  frail,  dependent  nature,  furnishes  strong  and 
indisputable  motives  for  this  sacred  duty. 


PRAYER. 

But  there  is  another  reason  why  we  should  often 
discourse  on  the  duty  of  prayer.  Important  as  it  is 
to  our  spiritual  life,  growth  and  happiness,  still 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  it  is  much  neglected. 

There  are  some,  who,  if  they  do  not  say  with 
the  ancient  scoffers,  'Who  is  the  Lord  that  we 
should  fear  Him?'  adopt  at  least  a  part  of  their 
language,  and  ask  '  What  profit  shall  we  have  if 
we  pray  unto  Him  ? ' 

There  are  others  whose  time  is  so  filled  with  the 
cares  and  occupations  of  life,  serious  and  trifling, 
that  they  allow  themselves  little  or  no  leisure  for 
the  performance  of  this  duty;  or,  whose  minds  are 
BO  intent  on  these  objects,  that  when  they  seem  to 
pray  they  do  not.  Their  words  are  of  GOD  and 
heaven,  but  their  thoughts  are  of  earth  and  earthly 
things. 

Need  I  say  in  this  congregation,  in  answer  to 
those  who  object  that  prayer  is  useless,  that  there 
is  indeed  *  much  profit  in  praying  to  God?'  —  Need 
I  say  how  much  it  promotes  gratitude,  trust,  purity, 
benevolence,  penitence,  pious  resolutions,  watchful- 
ness?—  Need  I  say  that  GOD  has  commanded  it, 
airain  and  again,  and  that  obedience  to  HIM  is 
always  profitable  to  us,  from  the  influence  it  has  on 
our  character,  as  well  as  from  its  rendering  us  ac- 
ceptable to  Him? — Nerd  I  say  that  God  has  pro- 
mised blessings  as  the  reward  of  this  obedience? 
especially  the  gift  of  His  Holy  Spirit,  —  which  I 
will  not  say  is  important,  —  which  is  essential  to 
our  progress  in  holiness  ? 


84 


PRAYER. 


I  know  that  there  are  some  who  speak  slight- 
ingly of  Divine  influences.  I  do  not  censure  them, 
—  for  this  is  not  my  province,  —  but  I  differ  from 
them.  If  I  disbelieve  the  reality  of  these  influences, 
I  must  relinquish  my  faith  in  the  Bible,  for,  to  my 
understanding,  they  are  as  clearly  taught  there  as 
language  can  teach  them.  How  many  are  there 
who  might  go  much  farther  than  this,  and  say  that 
they  would  as  soon  doubt  their  existence  as  that 
they  had  felt  these  holy  influences,  and  enjoyed  the 
light  and  comfort  they  impart! 

Do  we  pray  that  God  would  restore  our  health, 
and  is  it  not  equally  rational  to  suppose  that  He 
would  give  health  to  our  souls  ?  If  He  hath  breathed 
into  us  the  breath  of  life,  so  '  His  Almighty  Inspira- 
tion hath  given  us  understanding,'  and  if  He  can 
rekindle  the  flame  of  life  which  is  expiring,  so  He 
can  illumine  our  minds,  revive  the  decaying  flame 
of  piety,  and  cause  it  to  burn  with  new  ardor. 

It  has  been  objected  to  prayer,  that  it  implies  that 
GOD  is  changeable;  but  the  reverse  of  this  is  the 
fact.  He  has  annexed  a  certain  reward  to  the  right 
performance  of  this  service,  and  the  granting  that 
reward  is  a  proof  of  his  unchangeableness. 

But,  there  are  others,  I  have  said,  who  neglect 
prayer  because  their  time  and  their  minds  are  en- 
grossed by  the  world,  —  its  cares  and  its  pleasures. 
To  them  I  would  say,  that  the  world  is  not  their 
home,  and  that  it  would  profit  them  nothing  to  gain 
the  whole  world  and  lose  their  souls,  I  would  tell 
them  that  their  seasons  of  devotion  may  be  ob- 


PRAYKK.  85 

served,  :ind  not  interfere  with  their  necessary  busi- 
ness or  their  innocent  enjoyments,  mid  that  there  is 
no  duty  so  necessary  us  this,  and  no  enjoyment  so 
i^rcat  as  that  which  results  t'roin  it.  I  would  tell 
them,  too,  th:it  they  can  be  *  fervent  in  spirit,'  \\hilst 
they  are  '  not  slothful  in  business,'  and  that  a  spirit 
of  prayer  whilst  it  prompts  to  fidelity,  will  promote 
success. 

There  are  doubtless  many  prayers  addressed  to 
GOD  to  which  no  answer  is  given,  —  whieh  do  not 
iii id  acceptance  with  Him. 

Have  we  ever  offered  such  prayers  ?  —  Have  we 
ever  felt  that  our  prayers  returned  to  us  void  ?  — 
Have  we  risen  from  our  devotions,  and  gone  forth 
10  the  business  of  life,  conscious  that  we  have  not 
found  the  blessing  we  sought;  —  uncheered  by  a 
of  the  Divine  Presence,  unsanctified  by  the 
Divine  Spirit  .' —  Have  we  sought  for  holy  influ- 
ences and  failed  to  obtain  them?  If  it  has  been  so, 
let  us  examine  ourselves.  Are  we  not  conscious 
that  our  prayers  did  not  deserve  to  be  heard  and 
answered  ?  —  Can  we  not  assign  to  ourselves  a  sat- 
isfactory reason  for  their  returning  to  us  empty  and 
void? 

Did  we  seek  for  spiritual  blessings?  Were  not 
our  desires  after  them  so  vague,  so  superficial,  — 
our  petitions  for  them  so  languid  and  feeble  and 
cold,  our  conduct  in  this  respect,  and  perhaps  our 
real  sentiments,  —  so  little  in  accordance  with  our 
prayers,  that  we  need  not  be  surprised  they  were 
rejected  ?  We  *  ask  and  receive  not,  because  we  a>k 


PRAYER. 

amiss.'  Our  prayers  were  lifeless,  heartless,  insin- 
cere, and  could  we  expect  that  they  would  go  up  to 
heaven,  and  be  accepted  and  registered  there  ?  — 
Could  we  expect  that  it  was  only  necessary  to  pro- 
nounce a  form  of  words,  in  order  to  be  renewed  in 
the  temper  of  our  minds;  to  be  transformed  into 
true  Christians ;  to  be  sanctified,  and  made  meet 
for  engaging,  as  we  ought,  in  the  employments  of 
earth,  and  for  the  enjoyments  of  heaven  ?  —  Where 
shall  we  find  a  man  so  thoughtless,  may  I  not 
say  so  abandoned,  as  not  to  have  offered  the  same 
prayer  ? 

It  is  not  to  those  who  merely  call  upon  GOD,  that 
the  promise  is  given.  We  may  i  cry  aloud,'  like  the 
priests  of  Baal,  and  no  fire  come  down  to  consume 
the  offering.  We  may  build  the  altar,  and  lay  the 
wood,  and  kindle  the  fire,  but,  if  we  have  not  a 
pure  victim  for  the  sacrifice,  our  labor  will  be  vain. 
'  If  ye  offer  the  blind  for  sacrifice,  is  it  not  evil  ? ' 
*  If  ye  offer  the  lame  and  sick,  is  it  not  evil  ?  — 
Offer  it  to  thy  governor,  and  see  if  he  will  be  better 
pleased,  or  accept  thy  offering,  saith  the  Lord  of 
hosts.' 

Religion  has  its  seat  in  the  heart ;  and  every  ser- 
vice, to  be  acceptable,  must  have  its  origin  there. 
It  is  the  simplicity  of  the  heart  that  is  the  best 
inditer  of  our  prayers.  The  head  may  find  words, 
but  the  finding  devout  affections  is  the  business  of 
the  heart.  We  must  pray  with  the  heart,  if  we 
would  obtain  acceptance,  and  we  may  thus  pray  and 
use  no  form  of  words.  We  may  breathe  a  sigh, 


PRAYER. 

and,  if  that  si^h  is  breathed  from  a  humble  con- 
trite heart,  it  will  not  be  lost  upon  the  air.  It  will 
be  wafted  upward.  It  will  come  np  into  the  ear  of 
the  ETERNAL,  and  we  have  the  pledge  of  HIM  who 
cannot  lie,  that  it  will l  not  be  despised.' 

But,  if  the  heart  be  not  engaged,  our  prayers  are 
useless  ;  they  are  worse  than  useless.  They  are  re- 
garded with  displeasure  by  a  GOD  of  truth.  If  we 
pray  for  the  forgiveness  of  sins  and  do  not  repent 
of  our  sins,  but  'regard  iniquity  in  our  hearts/  GOD 
will  not  hear  us.  If  we  pray  for  the  assistance  of 
GOD'S  spirit,  and  do  not  sincerely  and  fervently  de- 
sire that  assistance,  GOD  will  not  hear  us. 

When  we  pray,  then,  we  should  do  what  we  can 
to  adjust  our  spirits  to  the  posture  of  true  devotion. 
We  should  'not  be  hasty  to  utter  any  thing  before 
GOD;'  but  should  seriously  examine  ourselves,  to 
see  whether  we  are  about  to  pray  'in  sincerity  and 
truth.' 

We  should  reflect  on  the  greatness  and  power  of 
GOD,  and  remember  that  it  is  to  that  high  and  in- 
eou  iprehensible  Being,  who  by  a  word  created  all 
things  from  nothing,  and  by  a  word  can  reduce 
them  to  nothing  again,  that  we  are  to  address  our- 
selves in  prayer.  We  should  reflect  on  the  omni- 
presence and  omniscience  of  GOD,  and  remember 
that  it  is  to  HIM  whose  infinite,  all-seeing  know- 
ledge looks  through  the  recesses  of  every  heart, 
that  we 'address  our  prayers.  We  should  reflect 
on  the  infinite  purity  and  holiness  of  GOD,  and  con- 
sider that  it  is  to  that  Being  who  *  cannot  look 


88 


PRAYER. 


upon  sin,'  that  we  offer  our  prayers.  We  should 
reflect  on  our  own  wants,  weaknesses,  and  sins, 
and  remember  that  it  is  to  HIM  who  alone  can  sup- 
ply, strengthen,  forgive,  that  we  address  our  prayers. 

But  this  is  not  all.  We  are  permitted  to  remem- 
ber, when  we  pray,  that  it  is  to  'our  Father  in 
heaven,'  who  is  compassionate  and  ready  to  for- 
give, and  to  help  our  infirmities,  that  we  offer  our 
prayers. 

And  when  we  have  done  praying,  we  must  evince 
our  sincerity  by  our  labors.  Like  Moses,  —  but  in 
a  spiritual  sense,  —  we  must  combat  while  we  pray. 
GOD  will  not  do  all.  If  He  did,  we  should  not  be 
free,  accountable  agents,  but  mere  machines.  We 
must  strive  to  '  work  out  our  own  salvation,'  and 
we  may  then  look,  with  humble  confidence,  to  GOD 
*  to  work  in  us,  both  to  will  and  to  do.' 

Then,  and  then  only^  can  we  expect  Divine  as- 
sistance, and  that  assistance  will  render  our  own 
efforts  effectual.  Who  that  has  sought  in  sincerity 
has  not  found  help  in  time  of  need,  and  strength 
when  he  has  felt  his  own  weakness,  and  was  ready 
to  despair  ? 

It  is  thus  with  spiritual  blessings.  But  we  some- 
times ask  for  temporal  blessings  and  meet  with  dis- 
appointment. Can  it  be  said  that  we  do  not  truly 
desire  them  when  we  ask  for  them  ?  Would  that 
we  were  always  as  sincere  when  we  ask  for  the  for- 
giveness of  our  sins,  and  the  grace  of  GOD,  as  when 
we  ask  for  the  blessings  of  the  present  world ! 

Here  let  us  again  examine  ourselves,   and   we 


PRAYER.  89 

shall  probably  find  that  we  have  found  a  reason  for 
our  disappointment. 

Do  we  not  remember  how  little  we  know  what  is 
best  for  us,  and  have*we  not  often  found  in  our  ex- 
perience, that,  if  our  petition  had  been  granted,  we 
should  have  deeply,  yes,  bitterly,  regretted  it? 

Are  our  prayers  the  prayers  of  ambition  ?  —  The 
places  to  which  we  aspired  might  have  exposed  us 
to  temptations  which  would  have  proved  too  pow- 
erful for  us,  and  to  which,  in  a  humbler  station,  we 
are  not  exposed ;  and  might  minister  food  to  pas- 
sions which,  in  a  humbler  station,  would  have  found 
no  aliment. 

Are  our  prayers  the  prayers  of  avarice?  The 
possession  of  riches  might  corrupt  us,  —  might 
stille  the  germ  of  piety  which  had  been  planted 
within  us,  when  it  would  otherwise  grow  up  into 
full  maturity. 

It  is  thus  with  every  thing  of  a  temporal  nature 
for  which  we  pray.  It  might  prove  a  snare  to  our 
virtue,  or,  in  some  way  or  other,  prove  injurious  to 
ourselves,  or  others,  if  our  prayers  were  granted. 

In  refusing  to  hear  us,  GOD  is  merciful.  As  a 
father,  attentive  to  the  best  welfare  of  his  children, 
seeing  afar  off,  though  they  cannot  discern  them, 
the  instruments  of  their  unhappiness  and  ruin,  He 
mercifully  averts  the  blow,  which,  in  ignorance,  they 
may  be  earnestly  striving  lo  bring  upon  their  heads. 

When  we  ask  of  GOD  as  a  good,  what  might 
prove  an  evil,  the  more  inexorable  He  is,  the  more 
does  He  manifest  His  benevolence  and  love.  In 


90 


PRAYER. 


refusing  to  hear  us,  He  does  most  effectually  hear 
us.  His  regard  for  us  is  most  truly  shown  when 
He  seems  most  regardless  of  us.  He  is  the  kindest, 
when  He  appears  the  mosl?  unkind.  His  mercy 
shines  the  brightest,  in  the  darkest  night  of  ad- 
versity. 

The  prayer  of  faith  and  sincerity  has  not  been 
offered  in  vain,  my  hearers,  when  it  operates  a 
change  upon  us,  and  renders  us  more  fit  to  receive 
the  favors'  of  Heaven.  In  this  sense,  a  fervent 
prayer  will  be  '  effectual,'  and  we  shall  not  fail  to 
experience,  when  we  <  pray  to  GOD  most  High,' 
that  '  He  performeth  all  things '  that  are  necessary 
and  best  *  for  us.' 

Oh,  that  we  might  all  realize  as  we  ought,  the 
duty  and  the  privilege  of  prayer !  —  that  we  might 
thankfully  and  eagerly  fly  to  it  as  the  source  of  our 
greatest  comfort,  and  our  highest  happiness ! 

Let  the  sinner  fly  to  it,  as  he  needs  and  hopes  for 
forgiveness  and  mercy.  Let  the  ignorant  fly  to  it,  as 
the  means  of  obtaining  divine  illumination.  Let 
the  feeble  and  helpless  fly  to  it,  as  their  staff 'and 
support.  Let  the  anxious  fly  to  it,  as  the  source  of 
that  i  peace  which  passeth  understanding.'  Let  the 
afflicted  fly  to  it,  as  their  solace  and  refuge,  for  it 
mixes  in  the  bitterest  cup  the  healing  balsam  of 
heavenly  consolation.  In  their  affliction  let  them 
repose  themselves  on  GOD,  and  they  shall  find 
support.  Let  them  tell  their  sorrows  to  their  com- 
passionate Father  who  will  bring  good  out  of  evil, 
and  cause  these  comparatively  'light  afflictions, 


PRAYER.  91 

which  are  but  for  a  moment,  to  work  out  for  them 
an  exceeding,  an  eternal  weight  of  glory .' 

If  *  His  way  is  in  the  sea,  and  His  footsteps  are 
not  known,'  if '  clouds  and  darkness  are  round  about 
Him,'  and  hide  from  them  the  light  of  His  counte- 
nance, let  them  not  despond.  He  is  essentially  clot  li- 
ed with  the  effulgence  of  light.  i  Righteousness  and 
justice  and  mercy  arc  the  habitation  of  His  throne.' 

Who  are  they,  then,  that  are  faithless  respecting 
the  efficacy  of  prayer?  Let  them  habitually,  and 
rightfully  practise  it,  and  they  will  t  be  no  longer 
faithless,  but  believing.' 

They  will  have  abundant  experience  of  its 
blessed  effects ;  they  will  advance  in  knowledge  and 
virtue;  they  will  feel  increasing  consolation,  satis- 
faction and  joy ;  they  will  find  support  and  aid  under 
the  difficulties  of  life;  they  will  enjoy  a  sacred 
peace,  —  *a  hope  that  maketh  not  ashamed,'  in  the 
hour  of  death ;  and  be  prepared  for  a  world  where 
pure,  mi  mixed  devotion  reigns  and  triumphs  for- 
ever and  ever. 


92 


SERMON  XIV. 


IDOLATRY  AMONG  CHRISTIANS. 

1  John,  V.  21. —  KEEP  YOURSELVES  FROM  IDOLS. 

THE  caution  in  our  text  was  peculiarly  important 
in  the  early  ages  of  Christianity.  Many  of  the 
Christians  were  converts  from  heathenism,  and, 
dwelling  in  the  midst  of  those  from  whose  faith 
and  worship  they  had  withdrawn  themselves,  were 
in  danger  of  relapsing  into  their  former  errors  and 
superstitions. 

To  that  portion  of  them  who  were  converts  from 
Judaism,  it  was  by  no  means  unnecessary  ;  for  the 
Jews,  notwithstanding  the  clearest  proofs  of  the 
existence,  the  unity,  the  unrivalled  excellence,  and 
supreme  authority  of  GOD  ;  notwithstanding  the 
peculiar  regard  which  GOD  had  expressed  for  them, 
and  the  repeated  obligations  he  had  imposed  upon 
them,  were  strongly  addicted  to  idolatry. 

To  those  whose  condition  resembles  that  of  the 
early  Christians,  the  admonition  in  the  text  might 
now  with  great  propriety  and  effect  be  addressed. 
But  why  should  it  be  brought  forward  in  a  land  of 
Christian  light  and  knowledge  ?  — •,  Why  should  it 


IDOLATRY    AMONG    CHRISTIANS.  93 

be  directed  to  a  Christian  congregation  assembled 
for  the  express  purpose  of  worshipping  the  one 
living  and  true  GOD,  and  who  are  in  no  danger  of 
falling  into  Pagan  superstition  and  idolatry? 

We  look  around  us,  and  there  are  no  altars 
erected  to  Baal ;  no  shrine  for  the  goddess  of  the 
Ephesians ;  no  temple  consecrated  to  the  l  unknown 
(Jod.' —  The  night  of  Pagan  superstition  and 
idolatry  has  fled  away,  'the  day-spring  from  on 
hi^h  hath  visited  us,'  —  we  dwell  in  the  noon-day 
splendor  of  Gospel  light,  and  Gospel  privileges. 
There  is  no  danger  then,  surely,  that  we  should 
worship  false-  divinities ;  that  we  should  bow  down 
to  stocks  and  stones. 

From  religious  idolatry,  my  friends,  —  from  the 
idolatry  of  the  heathen,  —  the  Gospel  has  happily 
freed  us;  but  there  is  another  species  of  idolatry 
which,  though  less  gross  in  appearance,  may  not  be 
less  criminal.  I  speak  of  that  moral  idolatry,  by 
which,  whilst  the  true  GOD  is  ostensibly  worshipped, 
the  homage  of  the  heart  is  paid  to  another.  In 
this  sense,  how  much  idolatry,  —  what  images, 
what  idols,  what  false  divinities  do  we  not  discover 
in  the  midst  of  Christians?  What,  I  ask,  is  every 
irregular  passion  which  we  fondly  cherish,  and  for 
which  we  are  disposed  to  make  the  greatest  sacri- 
fices ?  What  is  it  but  idolatry  ? 

To  build  temples  in  honor  of  GOD,  then,  to  cele- 
brate His  praises,  to  address  our  prayers  to  Him, 
to  bow  down  before  Him,  —  these  are  but  equivocal 
marks  of  religion,  and  are  often  deceitful.  To 


94 


IDOLATRY    AMONG    CHRISTIANS. 


worship  GOD  as  we  ought,  is  to  worship  Him  in 
1  spirit  and  in  truth,'  —  to  acknowledge  Him  in  our 
hearts  as  the  most  perfect  of  all  beings ;  to  pay 
Him  the  homage,  not  of  our  bodies,  only,  but  also 
of  our  souls. 

With  what  complacency,  I  beseech  you,  can  He 
regard  a  service  in  which  the  heart  has  no  share  ? 
No  !  All  incense  that  is  offered  only  with  the  hands, 
is  an  abomination  to  Him.  HE  must  have  the  first 
place  in  our  hearts.  HE  must  reign  supreme  over 
our  affections  and  our  wills.  Let  us  engage  then, 
in  the  duty  of  self-examination.  Let  us  see  if  there 
is  no  idol  in  our  hearts  which  usurps,  in  some 
measure,  the  place  which  belongs  only  to  GOD. 

1st.  c  Covetousness,'  —  the  immoderate  love  of 
money,  — '  is  idolatry.' 

Is  money  our  idol  ?  Does  this  absorb  our 
thoughts,  —  our  cares  ?  Do  we  regard  this  as  our 
chief  good,  as  the  source  of  our  highest  happiness  ? 
If  so,  we  are  idolaters. 

Though  we  we  do  not  acknowledge  fortune  as 
our  divinity ;  though  we  do  not  build  altars  to  its 
honor;  though  we  do  not  directly  address  our 
prayers  to  it ;  though  we  do  not  literally  bow  down 
before  it ;  yet  we  are  not  the  less  idolaters. 

Our  hearts,  which  ought  to  be  temples  for  the 
Holy  Spirit,  are  the  temples  of  an  idol.  We  ren- 
der it  our  unremitted  service.  It  obtains  our  incense ; 
it  obtains  our  vows. 

Ah,  of  what  importance  is  it  that  we  do  not 
render  it  our  formal  worship,  if  we  in  reality  wor- 


IDOLATRY    AMONG    CHRISTIANS. 


95 


ship  it!  Of  what  importance  is  it  that  we  offer  to 
GOD  the  homage  of  our  lips,  if  we  say  in  our 
hearts,  ' to  gold,  Thou  art  my  god;  and  to  fine 
gold,  thou  art  my  confidence  ? ' 

*  No  man  can   serve   two   masters.'      He    must 
attach  himself  to  one,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  other. 
'  Ye  cannot  serve  GOD  and  Mammon.'     We  cannot 
give  our  hearts  to  two  objects,  when  these  objects 
are  opposed  to  each  other.     There  will  be  an  in- 
evitable, a   perpetual   conflict.     We   must    decide 
between  them. 

*  Choose  ye  this  day  whom  ye  will  serve.'     GOD, 
or  Mammon.     Your  religion,  or  your  love  of  gain. 
They  are  as  incompatible  as  heayen  and  hell;  as 
light  and  darkness. 

2d.  Nor  is  idolatry  confined  to  the  immoderate 
love  of  money.  The  immoderate  love  of  pleasure, 
is  idolatry. 

Is  pleasure  our  idol  ?  Is  this  the  object  of  our 
thoughts,  —  I  may  emphatically  say  of  our  labor  ? 

Wherever  amusement  invites,  or  pleasure  calls, 
are  we  eager  to  go  ?  Do  we  spend  our  days  in 
preparing  for  such  scenes,  and  our  nights  in  enjoying 
them? 

Do  we  lead  a  life  of  frivolity  and  levity  ?  Are 
we  absorbed  in  the  whirlpool  of  fashionable  folly, 
and  hurried  along  by  a  rapid  succession  of  amuse- 
ments ? 

Are  the  dear  delights  of  family  intercourse,  the 
gentle  charities  of  private  life,  the  sweet  emanations 
of  conjugal,  parental,  and  filial  affection,  insipid, 


96  IDOLATRY    AMONG    CHRISTIANS. 

compared  with  the  gay  party,  the  splendid  ball- 
room, or,  —  infinitely  worse,  —  the  haunts  of  dissi- 
pation and  excess  ? 

Every  amusement,  every  pleasure,  carried  to  ex- 
cess, is  criminal.  It  diverts  the  mind  from  GOD 
and  duty.  It  unfits  it  for  serious  reflection.  We 
may  enjoy  pleasure ;  but  we  must  be  temperate  and 
moderate  in  the  enjoyment  of  it.  We  must  be 
careful  that  we  are  *  not  lovers  of  pleasure  more 
than  lovers  of  GOD.' 

3d.  An  immoderate  love  of  honor  and  distinction, 
is  idolatry. 

Is  the  love  of  honor  or  of  praise,  the  ruling  principle 
of  our  actions  ?  Do  we  feed  upon  the  chaff,  are  we 
puffed  up  by  the  breath  of  popular  applause  ?  In 
short,  do  we  '  love  the  praise  of  men,  more  than  the 
praise  of  GOD  ?  '  Then  we  are  idolaters. 

Profit,  honor  and  pleasure  have  been  called  the 
world's  trinity.  They  are  the  gods  whom  the 
world  worships. 

But  methinks  I  hear  more  than  one  in  this 
assembly  reply,  '  If  this  is  idolatry,  then  are  not  we 
idolaters.  We  have  no  immoderate  love  of  money, 
or  of  pleasure,  or  of  fame.' 

If  it  be  really  so,  my  friends,  you  have  cause 
indeed  for  self- congratulation.  But  let  me  ask  you 
again  to  look  into  the  recesses  of  that  heart  which 
is  known  only  to  GOD  and  to  yourselves. 

If  you  do  not  find  there  an  image  of  gold,  or  the 
shrine  of  pleasure,  or  a  temple  to  fame,  is  there  no 
idol  there  ? 

Is  not  a  husband,  or  a  wife,  or  a  child,  or  some 


IDOLATRY    AMONG    CHRISTIANS. 


97 


other  object  of  affection,  your  idol?  Has  nothing 
a  larger  share  in  your  heart,  than  your  GOD  ?  Does 
nothing  interfere  with  the  duty,  the  homage,  which 
you  owe  to  Him  ? 

If  there  is  any  thing, — bear  with  me  my  friends,  — 
and  yet  why  should  I  say  bear  with  me?  —  you 
are  idolaters.  You  are  giving  to  others  what 
belongs  only  to  HIM  who  has  given  you  ah1. 

I  may  call  upon  you  with  propriety  to  'keep 
yourselves  from  idols.'  I  may  call  upon  you  to 

*  separate  between  you  and  your  gods.' 

Let  me  not  be  misunderstood.  You  may  love 
these  objects.  You  may  love  them  fervently. 
It  would  be  monstrous  if  you  did  not.  But  you 
must  love  the  Giver  in  the  gift,  and  Him  supremely. 
Klse  are  you  idolaters. 

To  conclude.  Do  you  seek  for  riches? — The 
inexhaustible  riches  of  GOD'S  mercy  in  Jesus  Christ 
arc  -pn-ad  before  you;  treasures  which  *  the  world 
cannot  give,  nor  take  away.' 

Do  you  pant  after  honor  and  distinction  ?  Behold 

*  a  crown  of  glory  which  fadeth  not  away.'      Listen 
to  the  honorable  testimony  with  which  GOD  himself 
\\  ill  reward  your  sincere  endeavors  to  serve  Him. 

*  WELL  DONE,  GOOD  AND  FAITHFUL  SERVANT!  EN  ILK 

INTO   Till,  JOY   OF  THY   LORD.' 

Is  pleasure  the  object  of  your  search?  Joys  with 
which  strangers  cannot  intermeddle,  are  offered  to 
you ;  the  fellowship  of  angels,  the  presence  of  the 
ever-living  GOD,  in  whose  presence  there  is  fulness 
of  joy,  and  pleasures  forevermore. 

VOL.  II.  9 


98 


SERMON  XV. 


RELIGIOUS    CONVERSATION. 

Malachi  iii.  2. — THEY  THAT  FEARKD  THE  LORD  SPAKE  OFTEN  ONE  TO 

ANOTHER. 

IT  was  in  a  degenerate  age  that  these  words  were 
spoken.  The  glory  had  departed  from  Judah.  The 
worship  of  God  was  profaned  in  the  land.  The 
priests  and  the  people  were  alike  the  slaves  of  cor- 
ruption. 

But,  in  the  midst  of  this  wicked  generation,  there 
were  some  that  <  feared  the  Lord  ; '  and  their  minds 
were  fortified,  and  the  sentiment  of  piety  cherished, 
by  frequent  communion  with  one  another. 

If  we  have  fallen  on  better  times ;  if  there  is  less 
degeneracy  among  us ;  if  there  is  a  more  general 
acknowledgment  of  religious  obligations ;  still  there 
was  something,  even  in  those  times,  which  is  wor- 
thy of  our  imitation.  We  find  it  in  the  text.  '  They 
that  feared  the  Lord  spake  often  one  to  another? 
They  spake  of  religion ;  of  GOD  and  duty ;  for  it  is 
said  that  'the  Lord  hearkened  and  heard,  and  a 
book  of  remembrance  was  written  before  HIM  for 


RELIGIOUS    CONVERSATION.  99 

them  that  fear  the  Lord  and  that  thought  upon  His 
name.' 

It  is  to  religious  conversation,  then,  that  the  text 
directs  our  attention ;  and  I  scarcely  know  a  subject 
on  which  a  word  of  admonition  is  more  needed  than 
this. 

Mankind  are  variously  occupied.  They  are  en- 
gaged in  professions  and  employments  which  lead 
them  into  different  paths.  Among  those  who  are 
engaged  in  the  same  pursuit,  there  is  frequent  com- 
munion. It  is  natural  and  fit  that  it  should  be  so. 
It  promotes  information,  activity,  enterprise. 

But  however  variously  mankind  may  be  occupied, 
in  however  different  paths  they  may  be  pursuing  the 
journey  of  life,  there  is  one  subject  in"  which  they 
have  a  common  interest,  and  one  path  in  which 
they  are  travelling  together. 

The  subject  in  which  they  have  a  common  inter- 
est is  religion  ;  and  the  path  in  which  they  are 
walking  together,  is  the  path  to  the  grave. 

Is  it  not  natural  and  fit  that  this  subject  should 
occupy  much  of  their  attention;  and  that,  as  they 
travel  together,  it  should  often  find  a  place  in  their 
discourse  ?  Worldly  pursuits  terminate  at  death. 
The  factitious  distinctions  which  wealth  and  honor 
confer,  have  no  place  in  '  the  land  without  any 
order.' 

1  We  brought  nothing  into  the  world  with  us, 
and  we  can  carry  nothing  out.'  But  it  is  not  so 
with  intellectual  and  moral  pursuits.  They  relate 
to  the  immortal  part  of  our  nature,  and  are  them- 


100 


RELIGIOUS    CONVERSATION. 


selves  immortal.  The  acquisitions  of  wisdom  and 
piety  accompany  us  into  the  region  beyond  the 
grave  ;  and  have  an  important  influence  on  our  eter- 
nal well-being.  All  that  relates  merely  to  the  present 
world  will  soon  have  no  place  in  our  regard.  The 
time  is  coming  when  the  interests  of  this  world  will 
be  nothing,  and  religion  every  thing ;  when  the  time 
which  has  been  spent  in  idle,  frivolous  conversation 
will  be  remembered  with  poignant  regret ;  and  the 
time  which  has  been  devoted  to  religious  commu- 
nion, with  unspeakable  satisfaction  and  comfort. 

If  I  could  lift  the  curtain  of  eternity,  and  disclose 
to  you  the  awful  realities  that  are  hidden  behind  it, 
you  would  realize,  —  but,  till  that  curtain  is  lifted, 
and  the  disembodied  spirit  is  permitted  to  behold 
the  scene  to  which  this  scene  is  preparatory,  you 
cannot  fully  realize,  how  deeply  this  subject  con- 
cerns you.  You  are  now  inhabitants  of  earth.  You 
have  known  no  other  world  than  this.  Your  closest 
ties,  your  dearest  and  most  interesting  associations 
are  here.  It  is  difficult  for  you  to  feel,  —  however 
you  may  believe,  —  that  this  world  is  not  your  home. 
You  lay  plans  for  an  earthly  futurity.  You  <  buy, 
and  sell,  and  get  gain ; '  and  if  you  breathe  a  sigh 
that  life  is  short  and  uncertain,  do  you  not  say  in 
the  same  breath,  '  Soul,  take  thine  ease,  thou  hast 
goods  laid  up  for  many  years  ? ' 

Here  is  one  reason  why  an  admonition  on  this 
subject  is  needed.  The  subject  is  all-important  and 
momentous.  It  is  important  as  our  intellectual 
and  immortal  nature.  It  is  momentous  as  the  con- 


RELIGIOUS    CONVERSATION.  101 

cerns  of  eternity.  If  it  becomes  us  to  speak  often  io 
one  another  on  the  business  of  this  fleeting  life,  it 
much  more  becomes  us  to  speak  often  one  to  another 
on  the  business  of  a  life  that  will  never  end. 

But  what  is  the  fact  ?  Alas !  we  need  have  but 
little  intercourse  with  the  world  to  perceive  that  the 
reverse  of  this  is  the  fact. 

It  is  well  that  the  hours  of  business  should  be 
devoted  to  useful  business,  and  hours  of  recreation 
to  harmless  recreation,  and  at  such  seasons  the  con- 
versation may  partake  of  the  nature  of  the  employ- 
ment. But  how  little  is  spared  to  high  and  holy 
converse  with  one  another!  Even  among  those 
who  are  known  to  each  other  as  fearing  the  same 
God,  and  trusting  in  the  same  Saviour,  as  members 
of  the  same  household  of  faith ;  who  have  joined 
together  in  the  exercises  of  devotion,  and  are  re- 
membered, it  may  be,  —  it  should  be,  —  in  each 
other's  prayers;  even  among  these,  too,  religious 
conversation  seems  to  be  almost  interdicted;  is 
chilled  with  obstinate  silence,  if  it  is  not  rebuked 
with  a  sneer.  Even  they  speak  to  one  another  on 
subjects  the  most  frivolous,  or  subjects  worse  than 
frivolous,  in  preference  to  those  which  belong  to 
their  best  welfare.  l  The  Lord  hearkeneth  and 
heareth.'  A  book  of  remembrance  is  written  be- 
fore HIM,  and  '  for  every  idle  word  we  must  give 
account.' 

Here,  then,  is  another  reason  why  an  admonition 
on  this  subject  is  needed.  Notwithstanding  the 
9* 


102  RELIGIOUS    CONVERSATION. 

importance  of  religion,  there  is  comparatively  but 
little  religious  conversation. 

There  is  political  conversation.  There  is  con- 
versation about  parties  of  pleasure,  and  about 
amusements.  There  is  conversation  about  people's 
character  and  conduct.  There  is  conversation  about 
preachers  and  preaching ;  conversation  about  points 
of  '  doubtful  disputation  which  engender  strife,  but 
do  not  serve  for  edifying  ; '  which  destroy  the  kind 
affections,  and  root  out  the  Christian  graces.  There 
is  much  gossiping  about  religion,  but  very  little  re- 
ligious conversation. 

How  much  has  what  is  termed  religious  conver- 
sation been  perverted  !  It  has  been  worn  as  a  mask 
by  hypocrisy.  It  has  cherished  and  manifested  the 
complacency  of  spiritual  pride.  It  has  served  as  a 
vehicle  for  denunciation  and  anathematizing  to  big- 
otry and  intolerance.  It  has  fostered  the  religion 
of  the  fancy,  cold  in  heart  and  powerless  in  con- 
duct. 

But,  though  the  instrument  has  been  abused,  it 
is  not  in  itself  the  less  valuable.  How  pure  and 
soothing,  how  noble  and  elevating,  are  the  themes 
with  which  religion  is  conversant ! 

What  is  there  in  the  whole  range  of  intellectual 
and  moral  speculation  with  which  religion  may  not 
be  united,  and  on  which  the  conversation  of  the 
pious  may  not  with  propriety  and  advantage  dwell  ? 

*  Let  them  that  fear  the  Lord,'  then,  i  speak  often 
one  to  another '  on  these  delightful  themes.  Let 
them  dwell  on  the  goodness  by  which  every  creature 


RELIGIOUS    CONVERSATION.  103 

of  GOD  is  blessed ;  on  the  love  which  remembered 
them  in  their  lost  estate,  and  provided  a  ransom  for 
them;  on  'the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  has  made 
his  people  free.'  By  the  interchange  of  pious  senti- 
ments, let  them  kindle  in  each  other's  breasts  a 
brighter  flame  of  piety. 

In  the  domestic  circle,  in  the  confidential  hour, 
let  religion  have  its  place.  Let  them  speak  to  one 
smother  of  GOD  and  heaven,  whom  GOD  has  united 
in  the  closest  and  tenderest  ties.  If  in  every  other 
good  they  delight  to  share  with  each  other;  if  in 
every  other  sorrow  they  seek  from  each  other  support 
and  consolation ;  Oh,  let  them  not  refuse  to  share 
in  the  joys  of  religion,  or  to  seek  for  its  assistance 
and  sympathy  in  their  doubts  and  difficulties !  Let 
the  heads  and  members  of  families,  —  let  friends  and 
acquaintance  *  take  counsel  together '  in  those  pur- 
suits \\  hieh  are  to  prepare  them  for  eternity. 

Conversation  has  great  influence  upon  conduct. 
•  Let  us  consider  one  another,'  says  the  apostle,  *  to 
provoke  to  love  and  good  works.'  It  is  easy  to 
stir  up  selfishness  and  wrath  by  the  tongue,  and  by 
the  same  instrument  we  may  provoke  to  benefi- 
cence. There  are  principles  of  benevolence  which, 
in  young  minds,  may  be  cherished  and  drawn  forth 
by  presenting  kind  and  compassionate  views:  by 
combating  ungenerous  and  cruel  maxims;  by  ap- 
proving and  ripening  plans  of  usefulness.  We  are 
not  to  boast  of  alms,  but,  by  mutual  consultation, 
advice  is  obtained  ;  incitement  is  given  ;  proper  ob- 
jects are  discovered,  and  imposition  is  detected; 


104 


RELIGIOUS    CONVERSATION. 


knowledge  in  the  doctrine  of  alms  is  increased ;  the 
heart  is  enlarged,  and  generous  affections  kindled. 
Ordinary  conversation  is  very  properly  seasoned 
with  the  praise  of  goodness.  Indignation  at  vice 
may  be  tinged  with  personal  animosity,  but  the 
love  and  praise  of  virtue  indicates  '  pure  and  un- 
defiled  religion.' 

Some  who  cannot  give  much  alms  may  persuade 
the  rich  to  give.  Wisdom,  and  eloquence,  and  in- 
fluence of  every  kind,  are  worthily  exerted  in  the 
cause  of  charity. 

But  I  must  not  forget  to  say  that '  for  every  thing 
there  is*  a  season.'  We  are  at  all  seasons  to  be 
religious ;  but  there  are  times  when  religious  topics 
may  not  be  well  introduced.  Our  Saviour  teaches 
us  this,  when  he  says  l  Give  not  that  which  is  holy 
to  the  dogs ; '  l  Cast  not  your  pearls  before  swine, 
lest  they  trample  them  under  their  feet,  and  turn 
again  and  rend  you.' 

Whilst  the  Christian  should  watch  for  oppor- 
tunities to  advance  the  cause  of  religion,  he  should 
be  careful  not  to  expose  it  to  the  ribaldry  of  profane- 
ness,  or  the  sneer  of  folly. 

My  hearers,  I  have  said  that  religion  is  all  im- 
portant ;  and  I  trust  in  saying  this  I  have  a  testi- 
mony to  the  truth  of  the  assertion  in  the  conviction 
of  every  mind.  Would  that  I  might  say  in  the 
feeling  of  -ery  heart! 

I  have  said,  too,  that  the  time  is  coming  when 
all  other  subjects  will  have  lost  their  power  to 
interest  us.  It  will  be  happy  for  us  if  our  spirits 


RELIGIOUS    CONVERSATION.  105 

can  then  be  revived  and  animated  by  the  words  of 
affectionate  |>i«'ty;  if  the  heart  from  which  the  tide 
of  life  is  ebbing,  can  rest  on  that  anchor  which  is 
sure  and  steadfast.  It  will  be  happy  indeed  if  we 
can  enjoy  the  soothing  reflection  that,  amid  all  that 
frivolous,  and  unprofitable,  and  sinful  in  the 
world,  'we  have  had  our  conversation  in  heaven.' 


106 


SERMON  XVI. 


GOD  ALL-SUFFICIENT  ON  EARTH  AND  IN  HEAVEN. 

Psalm  Ixxiii.  25.  —  WHOM  HAVE  i  IN  HEAVEN  BUT  THEE?  AND  THERE 

IS  NONE  UPON  EARTH  THAT  I  DESIRE  BESIDE  THEE. 

THESE  are  strong  expressions.  Is  it  right,  —  is  it 
possible,  that  we  should  adopt  them  ?  Though  we 
should  doubtless  love  GOD  supremely ;  are  there  not 
many  on  earth  whom  we  should  love  beside  Him  ? 
Are  there  not  many  in  heaven,  —  spirits  of  the 
just  made  perfect,  —  to  whom  our  thoughts  may 
turn,  —  must  turn,  with  fondest  interest  and  af- 
fection ? 

The  Author  of  our  nature  does  not  forbid  the 
exercise  of  its  kindly  and  social  affections.  HE 
who  implanted  them  has  taught  us  to  cherish  them  ; 
and  has  presented  us  with  other  objects  than  Him- 
self, on  whom  they  may  be  placed. 

I  know  not  the  precise  state  of  feeling  in  which 
the  words  of  the  text  were  uttered.  The 
Psalmist  had  found  treachery  in  his  friend,  and 
ingratitude  in  the  son  whom  he  loved.  He  was 
'  plagued,'  to  use  his  own  expression,  '  all  the  day 
long.' 


GOD    ALL-SUFFICIENT,    ETC.  107 

It  may  have  been  from  the  depth  of  human 
vanity,  and  vexation,  that  his  heart  ascended  to 
GOD.  It  may  have  been  with  a  feeling  of  weariness 
and  disgust  with  every  thing  about  him,  and  in  a 
spirit  somewhat  querulous,  that  he  said,  l  There  is 
none  on  earth  that  I  desire  beside  THEE.' 

I  believe,  however,  that  it  was  in  a  moment  of 
Blowing  and  rapturous  devotion  ;  when,  feeling  the 
want  of  earthly  comforts,  he  found  a  sufficiency  in 
GOD.  *  In  Thy  presence  is  fulness  of  joy.'  *  Thou 
art  able  to  supply  all  my  need.'  '  With  thee  I  shall 
not  want ;  I  have  enough.'  *  Whom  have  I  in 
heaven  but  THEE  ?  and  there  is  none  on  earth  whom 
I  desire  beside  THEE.' 

The  passage  is  sometimes  rendered  in  comparison 
with  Tur.i:.  But  the  expression  is  faint  and  feeble. 
The  original  implies  much  more. 

If  we  were  bereft  of  every  object  that  is  dear  to 
us  on  earth,  it  would  be  sad,  and  heart-rending 
indeed.  We  might  be  ready  to  say,  in  the  prospect 
of  it,  that  the  trial  would  be  greater  than  we  could 
bear ; — that  we  could  find  no  compensation  for  the 
loss.  But,  if  we  acquainted  ourselves  with  GOD, 
we  should  be  at  peace.  In  the  sense  of  His  pres- 
ence, and  the  enjoyment  of  His  favor,  our  loss 
would  be  supplied. 

This  is  not  conjecture.  How  often  have  we 
seen  it  exemplified !  The  earthly  cords  of  affection, 
one  after  another  have  been  broken ;  and  the  devout, 
confiding,  rejoicing  spirit,  has  been  able  to  say, 
*  Although  the  fig-tree  should  not  blossom  and 


108 


GOD    ALL-SUFFICIENT    ON 


there  should  be  no  fruit  in  the  vine,  yet  will  I 
rejoice  in  the  Lord,  and  joy  in  the  GOD  of  my 
salvation.'  '  Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust 
in  Him.'  We  have  seen  it  most  fully  and  clearly 
and  impressively,  on  the  bed  of  death ;  when  faith, 
leaning  upon  that  anchor  which  '  enters  within  the 
veil,'  was  enjoying  a  foretaste  of  heaven ;  when 
every  thing  here  has  been  relinquished;  when  the 
last  passion  that  warms  a  mother's  heart,  —  love 
and  solicitude  for  her  children,  —  has  been  subdued ; 
has  been  absorbed,  —  if  I  may  say  so,  —  in  the  love 
of  GOD;  when  one  idea  has  seemed  to  fill  the 
mind,  one  affection  to  engross  the  soul ;  '  Whom 
have  I  in  heaven  but  THEE,  and  there  is  none  upon 
earth  that  I  desire  beside  THEE  ? ' 

But,  if  we  might  find  a  consolation  in  the  pres- 
ence and  favor  of  GOD  for  every  loss,  how  would  it 
be  if  we  were  bereft  of  GOD?  What  would  be 
our  condition  if  every  thing  else  were  left  to  us, 
and  GOD  were  taken  from  us?  They  who  now 
appear  to  have  little  regard  for  His  presence  and 
favor,  —  were  it  possible  for  them  to  exist  without 
HIM,  would  have  a  sense  of  destitution  of  which 
they  can  now  have  no  conception;  and  they  who 
have  been  accustomed  to  rejoice  in  His  presence, 
would  feel  that  all  that  was  left,  was  utterly  value- 
less. '  There  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire 
beside  THEE.'  GOD  can  supply  the  loss  of  every 
tiling,  but  nothing  can  supply  the  loss  of  GOD. 

As  it  is  on  earth,  so  it  is  in  heaven.  There  could 
be  no  such  place  as  heaven  without  GOD.  Where 


EARTH    AND    IN    HEAVEN.  H>(.) 

GOD  is,  there  is  heaven.  It  is  His  presence,— 
however  inferior  streams  of  happiness  may  refresh 
us,  —  it  is  His  presence  which  constitutes  that 
4  river  of  pleasure'  which  was  seen  by  the  apostle, 
in  his  vision,  as  proceeding  from  the  throne  of  GOD. 
How  unwise,  then,  how  mad  are  they  who  substi- 
tute inferior  objects,  for  GOD;  who  fix  on  the 
creature  those  regards  which  are  due  to  the  Creator; 
wlh>  are  seeking  at 4 broken  cisterns'  what  can  only 
be  found  at  the  Fountain  of  living  waters !  How  un- 
Wise  are  they  ?  how  regardless  of  their  true  interests, 
who  are  t ;ik ing  for  their  portion  that  which  cannot 
satisfy  them;  that  of  which  a  thousand  accidents 
may  deprive  them ;  that,  with  which,  without  GOD, 
they  cannot  be  truly  happy ;  and  which,  if  a  pure, 
legitimate  source  of  enjoyment,  should  lead  them 
up  to  HIM.  tin-  Fountain  whence  it  flows ;  —  to  HIM 
with  whose  nature  are  essentially  connected  all  the 
qualities,  that  can  engage  the  heart;  and  all  the 
lions  of  power  and  wisdom  and  goodness, 
on  which  they  may  repose  with  perfect  confidence. 
And  if  they  are  unwise  and  regardless  of  their 
true  interests,  who  are  suffering  the  objects  on 
which  their  affections  may  be  lawfully  placed,  to 
engross  their  hearts,  what  shall  we  say  of  those  who 
are  seeking  their  happiness  in  that  which  is  opposed 
to  GOD  ;  who  are  not  only  neglecting  the  4  Fountain 
of  living  waters,'  but  ;ire  drinking  deep  from  the 
springs  which  sin  has  poisoned?  —  The  charm  will 
soon  be  broken.  The  idols  to  which  the  heart  has 

VOL.  II.  10 


110  GOD    ALL-SUFFICIENT,    ETC. 

been  knit,  will  soon  appear  in  their  true  light ;  and 
what  will  then  remain  ? 

In  the  possession  of  health  and  spirits,  all 
this  may  do,  and  no  great  want  may  be  felt, 
and  no  serious  evil  apprehended;  but  there  is  a 
certain  hour  which  one  would  wish  '  all  undis- 
turbed and  bright,'  and  that  is  when  we  die ;  when 
we  go  hence  ne'er  to  be  seen  again ;  the  hour 
when  'heart  and  strength  shall  fail.'  Where 
then  are  all  the  sources  of  gratification  with  which 
the  sinner  contented  himself  while  in  health? 
Where  are  they  when  'the  earthly  house  of  this 
tabernacle  is  dissolved,'  and  the  immortal  soul  is 
separated  from  this  scene  forever  ?  Where  are  they 
when  the  spirit  has  entered  into  eternity,  and 
there  is  nothing  but  his  sins  to  come  between  the 
sinner  and  his  GOD  ?  —  It  is  for  the  imagination  only 
to  portray  that  scene.  GOD  GRANT  THAT,  TO  us, 

THERE    MAY    BE    NOTHING    REAL  ! 


Ill 


SERMON    XVII. 

TIIE  EYE   OF  GOD  ALWAYS  UPON  US. 
Genesis  xvi.  13.  —  THOU  GOD  SEEST  MB. 

WHEN  Moses  delivered  the  law  of  GOD  to  the 
people  of  Israel,  who  were  assembled  at  the  foot  of 
Mount  Sinai,  he  spake  with  all  the  authority  which 
resulted  from  the  presence  of  the  Law-giver.  He 
could  point  to  the  mountain  and  say  4  Behold  the 
glory  which  manifests  the  presence  of  the  MOST 
HIGH.' 

The  effect  was  instantaneous  and  irresistible,  — 
however  transient.  A  response  was  heard  from  the 
whole  congregation,  4A11  the  LORD  hath  spoken,  we 
will  do/ 

And  such  would  doubtless  be  the  effect,  my  hear- 
er.-, if  the  visible  presence  of  GOD  should  fill  this 
place,  and  bring  home  to  the  hearts  of  the  worship- 
JMT-  the  solemn  truth  on  which  we  are  now  medi- 
tating. 

If  that  Eye  which  is  never  closed,  but  which  is 
every  moment  directing  its  piercing  glance  at  every 
heart,  were  now  seen  in  its  infinite  brightness,  pen- 
etrating the  recesses  of  our  hearts  in  this  season  of 
our  apparent  devotion,  how  powerful,  how  irresisti- 
ble the  influence! 


112     THE  EYE  OF  GOD  ALWAYS  UPON  US. 

Divest  yourselves  in  imagination,  for  a  moment, 
of  this  veil  of  flesh  and  blood  that  surrounds  you? 
and  the  idea  becomes  reality. 

The  eye  of  the  mind  discerns  the  presence  of  a 
Spirit  filling  this  sanctuary.  THAT  SPIRIT  is  GOD. 

To  the  mental  vision,  an  Eye  appears  of  infinite 
brightness  penetrating  the  recesses  of  every  heart. 
THAT  EYE  is  GOD'S. 

Let  us  open  our  minds  to  the  influence  of  these 
reflections. 

1.  "We  have  come  hither  to  worship.     Let  each 
one  repeat  to  his  own  heart,  "  i  THOU  GOD  seest  me.' 
If  there  is  an  altar  within  me  devoted  to  thy  wor- 
ship ;  if  the  wood  is  laid,  and  the  sacrifice  prepared, 
and  the  fire  kindled,  THOU  knowest  it.     If  there  is 
no  altar  there,  and  no  sacrifice,  and  no  flame  of  de- 
votion, it  is   equally  known  to   THEE.     I  may  de- 
ceive  others,  I   may  deceive   myself,  but    THEE  I 
cannot  deceive.     Whilst  I  believe  in  Thy  presence, 
may  I  feel  its  influence ;  that  my  thoughts  may  be 
pure ;  my  feelings   devout,  and  my  purposes  holy ; 
so  that  this  which  is  '  none  other  than  the  house  of 
GOD,'  may  prove  indeed  to  me  *  the  gate  of  heaven.' " 

2.  We  are  to  leave  this  place,  and  mingle  again 
in  the  avocations  of  the  world.     Let  us  carry  with 
us,  and  keep  with  us,  the   awful  idea  which  now 
occupies  our  minds.     Let  it  be  a  '  light  to  our  path, 
and  a  lamp  to  our  feet,'  to  keep  us  from  every  false 
and  evil  way. 

In  transacting  the  business  of  life,  let  each  one 
say  to  himself,  "  '  Thou  GOD  seest  me.'  If  I  am  up- 


THE  EYE  OF  GOD  ALWAYS  UPON  US.     113 

in  my  intentions,  sincere  in  my  discourse, 
I'M  it  h  ful  to  my  engagements,  honest  and  conscien- 
tious in  my  dealings,  it  is  known  to  THEE.  If  my 
purjx ).<<•>  are  sinful,  and  my  words  deceitful,  if  to 
my  engagements  I  am  faithless,  and  in  my  dealings 
dishonest,  it  is  equally  known  to  THEE.  I  may  de- 
ceive others,  but  THEE  I  cannot  deceive.  I  may 
take  advantage  of  my  neighbor's  ignorance,  and  of 
the  confidence  he  reposes  in  me.  I  may  reap  the 
reward  in  unrighteous,  ill-gotten  gain,  but  what 
will  it  avail  me  ?  In  every  purpose  of  my  heart ;  in 
every  word  I  have  uttered ;  in  every  deed  I  have 
done,  the  Eye  of  GOD  was  upon  me,  and  a  fearful 
retribution  awaits  me." 

And  if  such  were  the  reflections  of  every  heart 
in  every  moment,  and  in  every  place,  they  would 
have  their  foundation  in  nothing  else  than  truth, 
As  surely  as  there  is  a  GOD  who  created  all  things, 
so  surely  must  HE  be  always  present  with  tin; 
thiiiLT-  Hi:  lias  made.  'He  that  planted  the  ear, 
must  hear ;  He  that  formed  the  eye,  must  see.'  He 
whose  almighty  inspiration  gave  man  understand- 
ing, must  know ;  and  HE  will  not  suffer  the  workers 
of  iniquity  to  go  unpunished. 

In  partaking  of  the  enjoyments,  no  less  than  in 
transacting  the  business  of  life,  the  reflection,  l  Thou 
GOD  seest  me,'  should  be  ever  present  with  us.  to 
restrain  us  from  sin,  and  keep  us  within  the  limits 
of  rational  and  innocent  enjoyment. 

We  cannot  hide  ourselves  from   GOD.     No,  my 
young  friends,  —  let  it  be  early,  and  deeply,  and  ha- 
10* 


114     THE  EYE  OF  GOD  ALWAYS  UPON  US. 

bitually  impressed  on  your  minds,  —  that  you  cannot 
hide  yourselves  from  GOD. 

When  the  eye  of  parental  tenderness  and  affec- 
tion is  not  upon  you,  the  Eye  of  GOD  is  upon 
you.  You  may  deceive  your  parents,  but  you  can- 
not deceive  your  GOD.  If  you  are  idle  and  vicious, 
profane  and  irreligious,  nay,  if  one  evil  thought  is 
admitted,  one  wicked  word  uttered,  one  sinful 
action  performed,  HE  as  surely  beholds  it,  as  if 
you  could  discern  HIM  without  you,  or  be  conscious 
to  His  presence  within  you.  All  your  thoughts  and 
words  and  actions  are  open  before  HIM. 

Never  indulge  any  thought,  then,  you  would  be 
unwilling  HE  should  know.  Never  speak  any  word 
you  would  be  unwilling  HE  should  hear.  Never  per- 
form any  action  you  would  be  unwilling  HE  should 
witness.  When  tempted  to  do  wrong,  call  up  to 
mind  the  words  of  the  text,  '  Thou  GOD  seest  me/ 
to  fortify  your  minds  and  keep  you  from  sin.  Be 
virtuous  and  good,  and  GOD,  who  sees  you,  will 
love  and  bless  you. 

My  text  is  in  itself  a  sermon.  It  is  a  lesson  of 
instruction  in  four  words.  But,  short  as  it  is,  if  it 
has  its  proper  influence  upon  us,  it  will  effect  all 
that  religion  is  designed  to  effect. 

Carry  it  home  with  you,  my  hearers.  Preach  it 
to  yourselves  here  and  every  where ;  in  your  busi- 
ness and  recreations  ;  in  your  intercourse  with  others 
and  in  your  solitary  communion  with  your  own 
hearts ;  and  in  that  day  when  the  secrets  of  all 
hearts  are  revealed,  may  it  be  manifest  that  it  has 
not  been  preached  in  vain ! 


115 


SERMON   XVIII. 


THE  DEVOUT  SPIRIT  ALWAYS  WITH  GOD. 
Psalms  cxxxii.  18.  —  WHEN  i  AWAKE  I  AM  STILL  WITH  THEB. 

IN  this  chapter  the  Psalmist,  with  great  sublimity 
and  beauty  of  language,  describes  the  omnipres- 
ence and  omniscience  of  GOD.  4  O  Lord,  thou  hast 
searched  me  and  known  me.  Thou  knowest  my 
down-sitting  and  uprising,  thou  understandest  my 
thoughts  afar  off.  Whither  shall  I  go  from  Thy  sj  >i  rii , 
or  flee  from  Thy  presence?  If  I  ascend  up  into 
heaven,  Thou  art  there ;  if  I  make  my  bed  in  hell, 
behold,  Thou  art  there.  If  I  take  the  wings  of  the 
morning,  and  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea, 
even  there  shall  Thy  hand  lead  me,  and  Thy  right 
hand  shall  hold  me.  If  I  say,  surely  the  darkness 
shall  cover  me;  even  tin-  niirht  shall  be  light  about 
me;  the  darkness  and  the  light  are  both  alike  10 
Thee.'  l  Thou  hast  beset  me  behind  and  before, 
and  laid  Thy  hand  upon  me.  Thou  understandest 
my  thoughts  afar  off.  Thou  eompassest  my  path 
and  my  lying  down,  and  art  acquainted  with  all  my 


116  THE    DEVOUT    SPIRIT 

ways.  For  there  is  not  a  word  in  my  tongue,  but 
Thou,  O  Lord,  knowest  it  altogether.' 

The  transition  from  the  omnipresence  and  omnis- 
cience, to  the  care  and  kindness  of  GOD,  is  natural, 
and  the  Psalmist  does  not  fail  to  make  it.  '  How 
precious,  also,  are  Thy  thoughts  unto  me,  O  God ! 
How  great  is  the  sum  of  them !  If  I  should  count 
them,  they  are  more  in  number  than  the  sand.' 
When  I  awake,  I  am  still  with  thee.' 

The  language  of  the  text  is  the  language  of 
devotion ;  —  of  a  soul  alive  to  its  dependence  upon 
GOD,  and  rejoicing  in  a  sense  of  His  presence.  It 
is  the  language  of  trust  and  reliance;  of  security 
and  humble  confidence.  It  is  the  language  of  one 
who  is  conscious  of  his  own  nearness  to  GOD, 
whilst  he  is  sensible  that  GOD  is  near.  '  When  I 
awake,  I  am  still  with  thee.'  Thy  presence  ever 
surrounds  me.  Thy  watchful  care  is  ever  ex- 
tended over  me.  '  By  day  Thou  dost  uphold  my 
steps.'  *  By  night  Thou  dost  watch  around  my  bed. 
Thou  encompassest  my  path,  and  my  lying  down.' 
I  sleep,  and  Thou  dost  guard  my  defenceless  head. 
I  awake,  and  lo  !  Thou  art  still  with  me.  I  inhale 
Thy  air,  I  am  cheered  by  the  pleasant  light  and 
genial  influence  of  Thy  sun.  I  rejoice  again  to  be, 
and  to  be  with  my  Father,  —  my  GOD. 

Such  is  the  language  of  the  text.  It  is  the 
language  of  every  pious  mind.  My  hearers,  is  it 
ours  ?  The  presence  of  GOD  at  all  times  surrounds 
us.  Are  we  sensible  of  it?  —  do  we  rejoice  in  it? 
The  Providence  of  GOD  is  ever  exercised  for  our 


ALWAYS    WITH    GOD.  117 

protection  and  comfort.     Do  we  realize  it?  Are  we 
grateful  for  it  ? 

We  'go  forth  to  our  work,  and  our  labor,  till  the 
evening.'  We  return  to  rest  in  the  bosom  of  our 
family. 

Our  neighbor  goes  forth  like  ourselves,  high  in 
health,  elate  with  hope;  but  he  returns  not,  like 
din-elves,  to  partake  of  the  joys  of  home.  A  fatal 
accident  occurs,  —  sudden,  unforeseen,  —  and  if  he 
returns  at  all,  he  returns  but  to  die.  The  snares  of 
death  are  always  laid.  The  emissaries  of  death 
are  ever  in  ambush.  Our  neighbor  has  been 
insnared  and  is  the  victim.  We  have  escaped. 
My  hearers,  we  escape  every  day, — every  moment. 
Our  whole  life  is  but  an  escape  from  the  innu- 
merable dangers  which  surround  us. 

At  the  end  of  every  day's  journey,  do  we  erect  a 
monument  to  the  mercy  of  GOD  ?     At  the  close  of 
.  day,  do  we  surround  the  family  altar,  and 
oiler  the  sacrifice  of  praise? 

Heads  of  families!  I  appeal  to  you.  Do  you 
call  your  family  together,  and  unite  with  them 
in  thanksgiving?  Is  there  an  altar  in  your  house 
inscribed  with  the  name  of  Jehovah?  Every 
evening  is  the  wood  laid,  and  the  fire  kindled, 
lor  the  evening  sacrifice? 

My  hearers  of  every  description!  I  appeal  io 
you.  Does  the  retirement  of  the  closet,  —  the 
chamber,  —  witness  your  evening  devotions?  Does 
no  day  close  upon  you  unsanctified  by  prayer?  Is 
then;  an  altar  in  your  hearts,  and  is  the  flame  always 
alive  and  burning? 


118 


THE    DEVOUT    SPIRIT 


By  night,  as  well  as  by  day,  we  are  protected  by 
the  watchful  providence  of  GOD.  We  commit 
ourselves  to  sleep,  and  sleep  securely  ;  for  HE,  who 
*  never  slumbers  or  sleeps,'  has  watched  over  us, 
and  shielded  us  from  harm. 

Our  neighbor,  like  ourselves,  has  resigned  himself 
to  sleep,  but  not,  like  us,  to  awake  and  inhale  the 
breath  of  the  morning,  and  see  the  light,  and  feel 
the  influence  of  the  sun !  His  eyes  are  closed  in  a 
long,  long  night.  He  sleeps  the  sleep  of  death. 
The  arrow  is  ever  flying  by  night;  the  pestilence  is 
ever  walking  in  darkness.  Our  neighbor  has 
become  the  victim.  We  have  escaped.  Do  we 
open  our  eyes  to  raise  them  in  devout  thankfulness 
to  heaven  ?  Do  we  lift  our  voices  to  send  them 
up  in  songs  of  praise  ?  At  the  beginning1  of  every 
day  do  we  surround  the  family  altar  and  offer  the 
morning  sacrifice  ? 

Heads  of  families !  I  again  appeal  to  you.  Do 
you  call  your  families  together  and  remind  them  of 
GOD'S  goodness,  and  unite  with  them  in  thanks- 
giving ? 

Have  not  your  families  shared  with  you  in  the 
care  of  a  watchful  Providence  ?  Did  you  separate, 
uncertain  what  would  be  the  issue  of  a  night  ? 
Do  you  meet  again  to  reciprocate  the  salutations  of 
a  new  day,  and  do  you  not  meet  to  recognize  and 
acknowledge  the  goodness  and  mercy  that  has 
preserved  and  blessed  you  ? 

My  hearers  of  every  description !  I  appeal  to  you. 
Does  the  retirement  of  the  morning  witness  your 


ALWAYS    WITH    GOD.  119 

devotions?  Does  no  day  dawn  upon  you  unsanc- 
tified  by  prayer?  Do  you  never  venture  forth  to 
encounter  thr  hazards  that  beset  your  path,  without 
seeking  the  protection  and  guidance  of  an  Almighty 
Protector,  and  an  unerring  Guide  ? 

When  we  look  forward  at  the  commencement  of 
a  new  day,  all  is  uncertainty.  It  is  a  sealed  book, 
whose  pages  GOD  only  can  unfold. 

It  may  be  full  of  the  most  important  and  inter- 
rstiiiij  events  to  us.  It  may  decide  our  fortunes  for 
time.  It  may  fix  our  fate  through  eternity. 

How  much  may  be  enjoyed,  and  ah,  how  much 
may  be  suffered,  in  a  single  day!  How  many 
bright  prospects  may  be  darkened!  How  many 
fond  expectations  disappointed;  how  many  affec- 
tionate attachments  dissolved!  How  many  blos- 
soms of  hope  may  be  withered ;  how  many 
buds  of  promise  may  be  closed  forever  in  this 
world ! 

A  single  day  has  opened  a  source  of  joy,  or  of 
sorrow,  which  has  continued  its  streams  through 
life.  In  one  hour,  a  man  has  incurred  a  disgrace 
which  time  could  never  wipe  off.  In  one  moment, 
the  thread  of  life  has  been  broken,  and  the  transi- 
tion into  eternity  made. 

How  many  have  entered  on  a  new  day  with 
their  cup  overflowing,  and  their  prospects  of  futurity 
clear  and  unclouded.  How  often,  ere  the  evening, 
have  the  notes  of  joy  been  exchanged  for  the  voice 
of  lamentation,  and  *  the  garment  of  praise  for  the 
spirit  of  heaviness  ! ' 


120 


THE    DEVOUT    SPIRIT 


Who  is  there,  then,  among  us,  so  thoughtless,  so 
unwise,  as  to  enter  on  the  duties,  the  temptations, 
the  difficulties  and  dangers  of  a  day,  without  com- 
mending himself  to  GOD  ;  imploring  his  protection, 
assistance,  and  guidance  ?  Who  is  there  that  will 
not  feel  himself  compelled  by  every  motive  of  duty, 
and  of  interest,  to  adopt  and  practise  the  resolution 
of  the  Psalmist,  l  My  voice  shalt  thou  hear  in  the 
morning,  O  Lord.  In  the  morning  will  I  direct  my 
prayer  unto  THEE,  and  will  look  up.' 

When  I  awake,  1  am  still  with  THEE.' 

The  little  child  reposes  in  perfect  security  on  the 
bosom  of  its  parent.  It  awakes ;  looks  up ;  finds 
itself  still  guarded  by  a  parent's  eye;  still  upheld 
by  a  parent's  arm ;  and  quietly  resigns  itself  to  sleep 
again. 

To  us,  weak  and  defenceless  creatures,  that 
parent's  eye,  is  the  eye  of  GOD.  That  parent's 
arm,  is  the  arm  of  GOD.  '  We  look  up,  and  find 
ourselves  still  with  HIM.' 

And  are  we  really  with  HIM  ?  Are  we  with  HIM 
in  spirit,  —  in  truth  ? 

GOD  may  be  with  us,  our  Protector ;  our  Bene- 
factor ;  and  we  may  be  far  from  HIM.  '  The  wicked 
are  far  from  GOD.' 

'  HE  maketh  his  sun  to  shine,  and  His  rain  to 
descend '  on  the  evil  and  the  good ;  on  the  thankful 
and  the  unthankful;  but  HE  is  only  nigh,  in  His 
favor  and  love,  to  those  who  fear  HIM,  and  l  call  upon 
HIM  in  truth.'  We  may  share  in  His  protection, 
and  be  excluded  from  His  favor.  —  Excluded  from 


ALWAYS    WITH    GOD.  121 

His  favor !  My  hearers,  in  His  favor  is  life ;  and 
His  '  loving-kindness  is  better  than  life.'  Without 
ii,  all  is  darkness  and  despair.  Destitute  of  the 
favor  of  GOD,  we  cannot  be  truly  happy;  and  we 
cannot  possess  that  favor,  if  our  hearts  are  not  \\ith 
HIM. 

Let  us  give  HIM  our  hearts.  HE  vouchsafes  to 
usk  for  them.  And  with  how  much  tenderness  ! 

I  repeat.  Let  us  give  HIM  our  hearts.  Then,  in 
the  pilgrimage  of  life,  we  shall  be  secure  of  the  pro- 
tection and  favor  of  God ;  and  though  we  must 
sleep,  —  and  may  soon  sleep,  —  the  sleep  of  death, 

yet  WHEN  WE  AWAKE,  WE  SHALL  BE  STILL  WITH  HlM. 


VOL.  11.  11 


122 


SERMON  XIX. 


DAVID  THE  KING  AND  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL. 

Samuel  i.  13,  14.  —  A  MAN  AFTER  GOD'S  OWN  HEART. 

THESE  words,  as  you  may  remember,  refer  to 
David,  the  King  and  Psalmist  of  Israel. 

It  is  of  him  that  it  was  said  that  he  was  '  a  man 
after  GOD'S  own  heart.' 

They  are  often  quoted.  Sometimes  in  testimony 
of  the  excellence  of  David's  character;  and  as  an 
excitement  to  the  cultivation  of  those  dispositions 
which  are  supposed  to  have  given  him  favor  in  the 
sight  of  GOD. 

Sometimes  this  passage  is  quoted  for  a  very 
different  purpose.  It  has  furnished  a  weapon  for 
infidelity  to  assail  the  truth  of  revelation.  The 
apparent  inconsistency  between  some  portions  of 
the  conduct  of  David,  and  the  declaration  in  the 
text,  has  been  pointed  out,  and  dwelt  upon  with 
no  little  satisfaction.  The  complicated  guilt  of 
David  has  been  brought  up  to  view  in  all  its 
enormity ;  and  the  question  emphatically  asked,  "  Is 
this  the  man  after  GOD'S  own  heart?  Can  he 


DAVID  THE  KING  AND  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL.      123 

who  was  guilty  of  such  atrocious  wickedness,  have 
been  regarded  with  complacency  by  Infinite  Purity 
and  Hob* ness?  Did  not  the  bldod  of  Uriah  'cry 
from  the  ground,'  and  did  not  the  cry  come  up  into 
the  ears  of  the  Eternal  ?  Vengeance  indeed  slept, 
and  did  not  pour  out  the  vials  of  its  wrath  upon 
the  devoted  head  of  the  offender,  but  can  it  be  be- 
lieved, that  not  mercy  only,  but  love,  came  in  to 
take  its  place  ?  " 

There  are  no  weapons  used  by  infidelity,  of  what- 
ever nature,  that  may  not  be  blunted  and  rendered 
harmless  by  truth  and  reason. 

If  an  answer  has  not  been  given  to  these  inquiries, 
it  is  because  no  attention  has  been  paid  to  the  time 
and  the  circumstances  in  which  the  words  of  the 
t<-\t  were  used.  It  was  long  before  the  period  to 
which  an  allusion  has  just  been  made,  that  David 
was  styled,  in  relation  to  GOD,  *  a  man  after  His 
own  heart?  It  was  when  he  dwelt  in  simplicity 
;uid  humble  obscurity  in  Bethlehem;  the  keeper 
of  his  father's  sheep.  It  was  while  he  was  yet  a 
youth,  in  the  house  of  his  parents,  unexposed  to 
the  dangers  of  prosperity,  and  the  seductions  of 
power. 

In  his  external  appearance,  as  it  is  described  in 
the  simple  language  of  Scripture,  he  was  l  ruddy, 
and  withal  of  a  beautiful  countenance,  and  goodly 
to  look  to,'  and  we  have  reason  to  think  that  there 
was  a  correspondence  with  this,  in  the  features  of 
his  mind. 

If  we  looked  no  further,  then,  for  a  solution  of 


124      DAVID  THE  KING  AND  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL. 

this  difficulty,  we  might  find  it  here.  It  might  be 
said  of  David  in  the  sheepoote,  if  not  of  David  on 
the  throne,  that  he  was  '  a  man  after  GOD'S  own 
heart.'  But  an  attention  to  the  occasion  on  which 
these  words  were  used  will  furnish  a  satisfactory 
explanation  of  them. 

They  do  not  refer  to  the  private  virtues  of  David, 
but  to  his  public  conduct.  They  stand  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  character  of  Saul,  who  is  described  as 
acting  'foolishly,'  and  who  was  deprived  of  his 
kingdom  for  his  disobedience  to  the  commandment 
of  GOD.  '  But  now,'  said  the  prophet  to  him,  '  thy 
kingdom  shall  not  continue.  The  LORD  hath  sought 
Him  a  man  after  his  own  heart,'  or,  as  it  may  be 
rendered,  'who  will  perform  His  will,' — 'and  the 
LORD  hath  commanded  him  to  be  captain  over  this 
people  ;  because  thou  hast  not  kept  that  which  the 
LORD  commanded  thee.' 

Saul  was  rejected  because  'he  did  not  perform 
the  will  of  GOD,'  as  king  of  Israel.  David  was 
chosen,  or  was  '  a  man  after  GOD'S  own  heart,'  be- 
cause he  would  perform  that  will. 

And  he  did  s*o.  He  maintained  a  strict  adhe- 
rence to  the  civil  and  religious  laws  of  his  country ; 
did  not  permit  idolatry ;  and  in  all  his  .public,  offi- 
cial conduct,  acted  in  accordance  with  the  mind 
and  will  of  GOD,  and  was  thus  a  man  after  His 
own  heart. 

In  reference  to  his  private,  or  personal  moral  con- 
duct, the  words  are  never  used.  They  are  used 
only  in  reference  to  his  conduct  as  a  king;  to  his 


DAVID  THE  KING  AND  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL.      125 

moral  fitness  to  carry  into  effect  the  peculiar  pur- 
poses of  Providence  in  regard  to  the  Jewish  people. 

Having  said  thus  much  in  vindication  of  the 
text,  let  the  moral  character  of  David  have  been 
what  it  might,  it  is  proper  for  me  to  remind  you, 
that,  great  and  aggravated  as  were  his  transgres- 
sions, they  were  expiated  by  his  subsequent  repent- 
ance and  holiness. 

He  had  sinned  dreadfully  ;  but  he  was  dreadfully 
punished  ;  and  was  deeply  penitent.  His  whole  life 
afterwards  was  little  else  than  a  series  of  troubles  ; 
and,  as  far  as  we  can  judge,  was  a  life  of  peniten- 
tial sorrow  and  humiliation.  He  went  '  mourning 
all  the  day  long,'  and  'watered  his  couch  with  his 


His  penitence,  and  his  confident  reliance  upon  the 
goodness  and  mercy  of  GOD,  are  the  prominent  and 
most  excellent  parts  of  his  character.  They  appear 
in  almost  every  page  of  his  admirable  writings. 

His  psalms  are  the  breathings  of  a  truly  contrite 
heart,  and  have  furnished  language  for  contrition, 
and  solace  for  affliction,  in  almost  every  age.  David, 
thankful  for  GOD'S  goodness  and  mercy  ;  David, 
pouring  out  his  soul  in  the  noblest  strains  of  poetry 
and  devotion  that  have  ever  been  employed  to  raise 
the  thoughts  of  the  religious,  and  carry  them  up 
to  GOD,  is  a  very  different  man  from  the  David 
who,  in  the  beautiful  language  of  Nathan's  para- 
ble, had  taken  away  the  lamb  which  the  poor  man 
had  nourished  up;  and  who  added  the  guilt  of 
murder  to  his  other  crimes.  He  had  awakened  to  a 
11* 


126      DAVID  THE  KING  AND  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL. 

full  consciousness  of  his  guilt,  and  the  tears  of  repent- 
ance had  washed  it  away.  He  might  now  be  re- 
garded with  approbation  and  favor.  As  the  Psalm- 
ist of  Israel,  he  is  holy.  He  who  finds  his  heart 
kindled  into  the  warmth  and  fervor  of  piety  as  he 
reads  the  Psalms,  feels  that  their  author  is  holy; 
that  it  is  from  the  '  abundance  of  the  heart  that  the 
heart  has  indited.' 

In  the  passage  we  have  been  considering,  we 
have  an  instance,  —  and  such  instances  are  of  fre- 
quent occurrence,  —  of  a  single,  isolated  text  pre- 
senting difficulties  which  an  attention  to  the  context, 
and  the  time  and  circumstances  with  which  it  was 
connected,  would  entirely  remove. 

The  selection  of  David  to  be  king  of  Israel,  and 
the  rejection  of  the  house  of  Saul,  are  a  striking 
illustration  of  the  importance  of  obedience  to  the 
commands  of  GOD.  — '  Behold  to  obey  is  better 
than  sacrifice.  Because  thou  hast  rejected  the  word 
of  the  Lord,  and  hast  not  kept  the  commandment 
of  the  Lord,  which  He  commanded  thee,  HE  hath 
also  rejected  thee  from  being  king.' 

The  fall  and  the  penitence  of  David,  are  alike 
instructive  to  us,  —  the  danger  of  prosperity  and 
elevation,  and  the  efficacy  of  repentance.  In  the 
faithful  admonition  of  the  prophet  to  the  king,  we 
are  reminded  that  as  no  such  messenger  will  come 
to  us  as  came  to  him,  we  have  within  us  a  monitor 
which,  if  it  be  not  .stifled  or  seared,  will,  on  every 
occasion,  tell  us  honestly  '  Thou  art  the  man ! '  To 
this  monitor,  enlightened  as  it  should  be,  by  the 


DAVID  THE  KINO  AND  PSALMIST  OF  ISRAEL.      127 

word  of  GOD,  —  let  us  at  all  times  listen ;  and  may 
GOD  give  us  grace  to  attend  to  its  warning  voice ; 
so  that  if  we  have  wandered,  we  may  be  recalled 
to  the  path  of  duty,  and  be  reconciled  through  re- 
pentance, and  the  mediation  of  Jesus  Christ,  to 
the  mercy  of  GOD. 


128 


SERMON   XX. 


THE    HIDDEN   LIFE    OF   A   CHRISTIAN. 
Colossians  iii.  3.  —  YOUR  LIFE  is  HID. 

THE  hidden  life  of  a  Christian  is  his  spiritual 
life ;  the  life  in  which  he  is  devoted  to  GOD  ;  to  the 
purposes  of  heaven  and  eternity.  It  is  the  same 
which,  in  some  parts  of  Scripture,  is  called  *  eter- 
nal,' for  it  survives  the  animal  life,  and,  with  the 
immortal  spirit,  retains  its  vitality  forever.  Like 
the  animal  life,  it  is  the  same  principle  in  its  infancy 
and  its  maturity ;  but,  unlike  that,  its  infancy  is  on 
earth,  and  its  maturity  in  heaven. 

Thus,  the  spiritual  life  is  eternal  life  commenced  | 
and  eternal  life  is  the  spiritual  life  perfected. 

1.  It  is  hidden  because  its  existence  is  in  the 
heart.  The  springs  by  which  it  is  moved,  the  prin- 
ciples and  motives  by  which  it  is  animated,  are 
concealed  from  view;: — from  the  view  of  all  but 
HIM  in  whom  it  is  said  to  be  hidden ;  who  is  its 
source,  and  the  only  witness  of  its  sincerity. 

Further.  It  is  hidden,  because  the  means  by  which 
it  is  chiefly  sustained  and  invigorated  are  concealed 
from  view.  The  objects  on  which  it  fixes  its  atten- 


THE    HIDDEN    LIFE    OF    A    CHRISTIAN.  129 

tion,  and  from  which  it  draws  its  nourishment,  are 
invisible.  GOD  the  Author  of  the  spiritual  life, — 
the  Source  of  its  strength  and  happiness,  is  invi>i- 
ble.  Faith  fixes  its  view  upon  HIM,  and  discerns 
his  perfections ;  but  *  mortal  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor 
can  see  HIM.'  CHRIST,  'the  Author  and  finisher 
of  its  faith/  is  invisible.  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT,  that 
Divine  Influence  which  operates  on  the  heart,  is 
invisible.  The  influence  is  felt,  but  is  visible  only 
in  the  effects.  Angels,  and  the  spirits  of  the  just 
made  perfect,  after  whose  intercourse  it  aspires; 
the  good,  whom  it  knew,  and  loved  and  honored 
on  earth,  but  who  live  on  earth  only  in  the  remem- 
brance, are  invisible ;  and  the  hope  of  a  reunion  is 
one  of  the  instruments  by  which  the  spiritual  life  is 
sustained.  Heaven,  the  end  of  its  wishes,  the  frui- 
tion of  its  hopes,  is  invisible.  '  Eye  hath  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  nor  hath  the  heart  of  man  conceived, 
the  joys  which  GOD  hath  prepared  for  them  that 
love  HIM.' 

The  acts  and  exercises,  by  which  the  spiritual  life 
is  maintained,  are  concealed  from  view.  The  self- 
communion  by  which  the  Christian  enters  into  the 
secret  chambers  of  the  heart ;  meditation,  by  which 
he  contemplates  earth  and  heaven, — 'the  things 
that  are  seen,  and  the  things  that  are  not  seen;' 
reading,  the  study  of  that  word  whose  'entrance 
irivcth  life;'  prayer,  without  which  the  principle  of 
holiness  cannot  subsist;  without  which  the  Chris- 
tian life  must  languish  and  die.  All  these  are  secret, 
hidden  from  public  observation,  and  in  the  use  of 
these,  the  life  of  a  Christian  is  a  hidden  life. 


130  THE    HIDDEN    LIFE    OF    A    CHRISTIAN. 

Secret  and  hidden,  too,  are  the  struggles  which  a 
Christian  has  when  inclination  is  opposed  to  duty ; 
the  conflict  in  which  he  is  perpetually  engaged  with 
the  world  and  sin. 

Further.  The  spiritual  life  may  be  said  to  be 
1  hidden '  even  when  it  is  visible,  because  jt  is  unos- 
tentatious and  unobtrusive.  It  is  'clothed  with 
humility,'  seeks  not  to  attract  notice,  but  rather 
shuns  it;  does  not  desire  'to  be  seen  of  men,' 
except  in  as  far  as  its  influence  may  be  useful ;  and 
is  satisfied,  if  it  is  only  seen  of  its  GOD. 

It  is  in  these  respects,  —  among  others,  —  that 
the  spiritual  life  is  hidden,  viz.,  Its  existence  is  in 
the  heart  from  which  i  are  the  issues  of  life.'  The 
means  by  which  it  is .  sustained,  the  objects  of  its 
devout  contemplation,  and  the  exercises  in  which 
it  engages,  are  concealed  and  hidden.  It  is  unos- 
tentatious; and  rather  retires  from  public  observa- 
tion than  courts  it.  It  is  hidden,  in  some  sense,  as 
it  pursues  its  even  course,  fulfilling  in  silence  its 
appropriate  duties  ;  diffusing  around  it  the  tranquil- 
lity and  peace  which  itself  enjoys.  It  is  in  some 
sense  hidden,  as  in  the  parent  or  child,  the  brother 
or  sister,  the  wife  or  mother,  in  the  retirement  of 
domestic  life,  it  is  faithful  to  the  calls  of  duty,  with 
no  other  motive  than  the  approbation  of  conscience 
and  of  GOD.  And  yet  it  is  not  hidden,  for  there 
are  those  who  mark  it,  and  pay  it  the  homage 
which  is  due  to  its  modest  worth.  There  are  hearts 
which  feel  its  value,  and  yield  it  the  tribute  of  warm 
affection.  The  circle  in  which  its  labors  of  love 


THE    HIDDEN    LIFE    OF    A    CHRISTIAN.  131 

and  duty  are  performed,  which  it  has  enlightened, 
and  cheered,  and  made  better,  by  its  influence, 
acknowledges  and  blesses  that  influence  as  it  enjoys 
its  benefits. 

Lastly.  In  the  hour  of  dissolution,  —  when  death 
is  performing  its  work,  —  its  sad  work,  —  of  destruc- 
tion, and  is  obtaining  the  victory  over  the  animal 
life, — the  frail  and  mortal  body,  —  the  spiritual  life 
is  hidden. 

It  may  be  hidden  by  the  veil  which  death  is 
drawing  over  the  senses,  and  if  not,  the  world  is 
shut  out,  and  comes  not  in  to  disturb  'the  holy 
quiet  that  reigns  within.'  But  yet,  even  here,  it  is 
not  hidden.  There  are  those  who  have  gathered 
round  the  bed  of  death,  as  they  smoothed  the  bed 
of  sickness,  and  whose  privilege  it  is  to  behold 
the  patience  and  pious  resignation  of  the  meek 
spirit  that  bows  to  drink  the  cup  which  may  not 
pass ;  to  witness  the  triumph  of  life  over  death  ;  of 
the  undying  soul  welcoming  the  'king  of  terrors' 
as  a  messenger  of  peace ;  and,  as  heaven  opens  on 
its  view,  adopting  the  exulting  exclamation  of  the 
apostle,  '  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?  O  grave, 
where  is  thy  victory  ? '  —  And  now,  indeed,  it  is  hid- 
(l«n.  It  is  invisible  as  the  GOD  whom  it  adored, 
and  with  whom  it  has  gone  to  dwell.  It  is  invisi- 
ble as  the  Saviour  whom  it  loved  and  followed.  It 
is  invisible  as  that  company  of  the  blessed  to  whose 
intercourse  it  had  often  looked  forward  with  ardent 
expectation.  It  is  invisible  as  the  heaven  on  which 
the  eye  of  its  faith  had  long  been  fixed,  and  of  the 


132  THE    HIDDEN    LIFE    OF    A    CHRISTIAN. 

fulness  of  whose  joy  it  now  partakes.  *  A  cloud 
has  received  it  out  of  sight.'  It  can  never  live  on 
earth  again,  but  in  the  memory  of  those  who  loved 
it  here,  and  in  the  hearts  and  lives  of  those  who 
were  blessed  and  benefited  by  its  labors,  its  exam- 
ple and  its  prayers.  There  may  it  ever  live,  enjoy- 
ing on  earth  and  in  heaven  the  same  recompense  of 
reward ! 


133 


SERMON    XXI. 


A  GOOD  MAN. 

A    CHARACTER.* 

(Concluding  part  of  a  Sermon.] 
ActS   i'l.    24.  —  BARNABAS  WAS   A   GOOD   MAN. 

IN  the  early  history  of  Christianity  we  have  many 
illustrations,  beside  the  one  I  have  now  described  to 
you,  of  its  benign  influence  in  the  lives  of  its  pro- 
fessors. 

They  furnish  a  powerful  attestation  to  its  truth 
in  the  exhibition  they  give  of  its  efficacy. 

The  tree  is  known  by  its  fruit;  and  no  better 
evidence  can  be  desired  of  the  truth  of  our  religion 
than  is  found  in  its  effects  where  it  has  been  sin- 
cerely and  heartily  received.  When  it  has  stamped 
upon  the  character  the  image  of  its  own  loveliness, 
they  must  be  blind,  indeed,  who  do  not  perceive 
that  the  portraiture  is  divine. 

A  character  so  excellent  as  that  of  him  whom  my 
text  commemorates,  is  comparatively  rare ;  but  there 
are  those,  in  all  times,  whose  privilege  it  is  to  pos- 

*  Isaac  Smith,  A.  M. 
VOL.  ii.  12 


134 


A    GOOD    MAN. 


sess  much  of  that  fulness  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 
of  faith,  which  he  enjoyed. 

They  seem  to  have  been  given,  that  there  might 
not  be  wanting,  in  any  period,  an  exhibition  of  the 
best  influences  of  Christian  truth. 

They  are  lights  in  the  world,  burning  with  a  pure 
and  steady  flame,  and  diffusing  around  them  the 
mild  lustre  of  Christian  virtue.  They  are  the  salt 
of  the  earth,  preserving  in  its  purity  '  the  faith  once 
delivered  to  the  saints,'  amidst  the  corruptions  of  a 
sinful  world.  We  have  seen  them  reflecting  the 
light  of  their  example  in  every  condition  of  life. 

I  should  do  violence  to  my  own  feelings,  and  in- 
justice to  the  living  and  the  dead,  if  I  did  not  say 
that,  in  my  belief,  it  has  been  our  privilege,  for  a 
series  of  years,  to  mingle  our  prayers,  in  this  place, 
with  the  prayers  of  as  pure  and  devout  a  spirit  as, 
since  the  days  of  the  apostles,  has  breathed  a  prayer 
to  heaven. 

I  have  known  many  good  men.  I  have  never 
known  a  better  man  than  that  revered  and  beloved 
servant  of  GOD  who  was  accustomed  to  worship 
with  us  here,  but  has  now  gone  to  worship  with 
the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect. 

It  is  due  to  him  as  a  minister  of  religion ;  it  is 
due  to  him  as  having  often  officiated  at  this  altar ; 
it  is  due  to  him  as  one  of  the  purest  and  best  of 
beings ;  that  the  praise  should  be  spoken  now  which 
his  modesty  would  have  shrunk  from  hearing,  but 
which,  even  in  his  humility,  he  was  constantly  utter- 
ing in  the  emphatic  language  of  a  spotless  life. 


A    GOOD    MAN. 


135 


I  have  been  intimately  conversant  with  him  for 
in;tny  years,  and  more  especially  since  he  became 
a  member  of  this  parish  ;  and  at  no  time  have  I 
seen  in  hi  in  a  deviation,  in  word  or  action,  from 
that  strict  propriety  of  conduct  which  became  the 
sacred  office. 

Then1  was  a  singleness  of  heart;  a  refinement 
and  delicacy  of  sentiment;  a  tenderness  and  gentle- 
ness of  spirit ;  a  beautiful  simplicity  and  uniformity 
of  deportment,  which  conciliated  the  regard  of  all 
who  kne\vhim;  and  rendered  him  an  object  of 
peculiar  interest  and  affection  to  those  who  enjoyed 
his  friendship. 

With  a  mind  enriched  by  reading  and  observation, 
the  study  of  books  and  of  men,  his  conversation  was 
in  a  hiiih  degree  entertaining  and  instructive. 

Retaining  to  the  last  much  of  his  youthful  feel- 
ings, and  adapting  himself  most  readily,  —  as  he 
delighted  to  do,  —  to  the  feelings  of  the  young,  he 
did  not  fail  to  find  his  way  to  their  hearts. 

The  experience  of  my  own  domestic  circle  can 
testify  how  much  he  endeared  himself  by  .these 
trails  of  character  to  which  I  have  referred;  how 
fondly  his  visits  were  welcomed,  and  how  sincere 
was  the  regret  when  they  were  terminated. 

In  these  days  of  theological  contention,  when 
Christians,  in  their  zeal  for  their  systems,  so  often 
lose  the  spirit  of  religion,  he  pursued  his  peaceful 
way;  expressing,  indeed,  now  and  then,  as  far  as 
his  in -mle  spirit  would  allow,  his  disapprobation  of 
bigotry  and  uncharitableness,  but  breathing  kind- 
ness and  good-will  to  all. 


136 


A    GOOD    MAN. 


In  early  life,  after  having  held  an  important  office 
in  our  university,  he  went  abroad,  and  was  led  by 
circumstances  to  take  the  charge  of  a  small  congre- 
gation at  Sidmouth,  in  England ;  where  he  was 
much  beloved,  and  his  intercourse  sought  and  valued 
by  the  neighboring  clergy  of  all  denominations,  some 
of  whom  were  among  the  most  eminent  men  of 
their  day,  and  by  the  most  respectable  among  the 
laity. 

He  was  in  the  vicinity  of  a  considerable  city ; 
and  the  town  in  which  he  lived  was  a  watering- 
place,  and  much  frequented. 

He  is  still  remembered  there  by  the  few  who  re- 
main, after  the  lapse  of  half  a  century,  with  lively 
and  affectionate  interest. 

On  his  return  to  his  native  country,  he  received 
a  second  appointment  at  the  college,  and  was  after- 
wards, successively,  the  head  of  an  ancient  seminary 
of  learning,  and  the  minister  at  the  alms-house  in 
this  city. 

He  lived  without  reproach,  honored  and  beloved. 
Calumny  had  not  breathed  upon  his  reputation, 
but  all  united  in  the  testimony  that  <  in  him  there 
was  no  guile.' 

His  last  days  were  soothed  by  the  unwearied 
kindness  of  thosp  to  whom  he  was  most  nearly  re- 
lated, and  who  deemed  it  a  privilege  to  minister  to 
his  comfort ;  to  watch  over  him  in  the  season  of  his 
decay,  to  smooth  his  dying  pillow,  and  close  his  eyes 
in  death. 

But  more  dear  to  him  than  the  tender  assiduities 


A    GOOD    MAN.  137 

of  affection  were  the  sustaining  promises  and  hopes 
of  religion. 

When  I  quoted  to  him  some  of  those  delightful 
passages  which,  for  so  many  ages,  have  calmed  the 
apprehensions  and  mingled  with  the  aspirations  of 
the  devout  spirit,  with  much  emphasis  he  would 
say,  *  They  are  very  precious.'  '  There  are  a  thou- 
sand such.'  <  The  Bible  is  full  of  them.' 

It  was  my  privilege  to  hold  with  him  the  last 
conversation  he  was  permitted  to  hold  on  earth, 
and  to  witness,  as  indeed  I  had  often  done,  *  with 
what  composure  a  Christian  can  die.' 

It  had  been  said  of  him  long  since,  by  one  who 
knew  him  well,  —  and  it  was  hardly  extravagant  to 
say  so,  —  that  he  wanted  i  only  wings,  to  ascend  to 
heaven/ 

His  disembodied  spirit  has  been  borne  up,  on 
angels'  wings,  to  that  blessed  abode,  and  may  now 
soar  unfettered  towards  the  Source  of  its  blessed- 
ness, and  fly  unrestrained  on  its  errands  of  love  and 
mercy. 

May  the  contemplation  of  the  character  of  this 
good  man  excite  in  us,  with  whom  he  has  sus- 
tained so  near  a  connection,  a  holy  emulation. 

Whilst  we  look  up,  by  faith,  to  mark  his  ascend- 
ing flight,  may  his  spirit,  as  did  that  of  the  prophet 
on  Elisha,  descend  and  rest  upon  us! 


138 


SERMON   XXII 


THE   BENEDICTION  OF   THE  SAVIOUR   ON  A  WOMAN  OF 
JUDEA  j  AND  A  TRIBUTE  TO  WOMAN'S  WORTHINESS. 

Matthew  xxvi.  13.  —  WHERESOEVER  THIS  GOSPEL  SHALL  BE  PREACH- 
ED IN  THE  WHOLE  WORLD,  THERE  SHALL  ALSO  THIS  WHICH  THIS 
WOMAN  HAS  DONE,  BE  TOLD  AS  A  MEMORIAL  OF  HER. 

THE  history  of  the  transaction  referred  to  in  the 
text,  as  recorded  in  the  Gospels,  is  briefly  this  : 

As  Jesus  sat  at  meat  in  a  house  at  Bethany, 
there  came  a  woman  with  an  alabaster  box. of  very 
precious  ointment,  and  in  token  of  her  reverence 
and  affection,  —  a  mode  of  expressing  it  common 
at  the  time,  —  poured  it  upon  his  head ;  and  anoint- 
ed his  feet  with  the  ointment.  Her  tears  fell  on 
his  feet,  and  she  wiped  them  away  with  the  hair  of 
her  head. 

Some  of  the  guests,  —  among  them  the  traitor 
disciple  who  afterwards,  for  a  paltry  consideration, 
betrayed  his  Master,  —  were  offended  at  what  ap- 
peared to  them  an  extravagance,  saying,  i  Why 
was  this  waste  of  the  ointment  made  ?  It  might 
have  been  sold  for  three  hundred  pence,  and  given 
to  the  poor.'  Jesus,  ever  considerate  and  kind, 


A    TRIBUTE    TO    WOMAN'S    WORTHINESS.          139 

vindicated  her  conduct.  'Why  trouble  ye  the 
woman  ?  She  hath  wrought  a  good  work  on  me. 
The  poor  ye  have  always  with  you,  and  when  ye 
will,  ye  can  do  iliem  good.  But  me  ye  have  not 
al way.  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  wheresoever  this 
gospel  shall  be  preached  in  the  whole  world,  there 
shall  this  which  this  woman  has  done,  be  told  as  a 
memorial  of  her.' 

This  day,  my  hearers,  is  this  Scripture  fulfilled  in 
our  ears.  It  will  be  fulfilled  in  the  ears  of  unnum- 
bered generations  in  distant  ages.  The  guest,  to 
whom  this  honor  was  done,  was  the  Son  of  GOD. 
The  gospel  which  has  recorded  it,  is  the  gospel  of 
GOD  ;  and  as  surely  as  this  gospel  '  shall  have  free 
course/  and  be  preached  throughout  the  world,  so 
surely  shall  this  prophetic  declaration  be  verified. — 
so  surely  shall '  this  which  this  woman  hath  done, 
be  told  as  a  memorial  of  her.' 

Nor  is  this  all.  Her  record  is  on  high.  '  This  that 
she  hath  done,'  is  written  in  'the  book  of  GOD'S 
remembrance; '  and  when  the  judgment  is  set,  and 
the  books  are  opened  before  the  throne  of  GOD,  this 
deed  that  she  hath  done  will  be  told  of  her  before 
an  assembled  universe;  and  the  guest  to  whom  her 
humble  tribute  of  affection  and  gratitude  was  paid 
at  an  obscure  house  in  a  small  village  of  Judea, 
now  seated  at  the  right  hand  of  the  throne,  will 
again  pronounce  a  benediction  upon  her. 

My  hearers,  I  have  related  to  you  an  instance  of 
honorable  conduct  in  a  woman  of. Judea.  It  is  but 
an  exhibition  of  the  character  of  her  sex.  It  is  but 


140  THE    BENEDICTION    OF    THE    SAVIOUR  J 

one  of  innumerable  instances  of  conduct  which 
confer  honor  on  woman,  recorded  in  the  annals  of 
humanity. 

It  was  for  that  sex,  fervently  and  unwaveringly, 
to  manifest  their  reverence  and  affection  for  the  Sa- 
viour of  mankind  through  the  whole  of  his  life  on 
earth.  No  dangers  affrighted  them.  No  difficul- 
ties discouraged  them. 

It  was  in  his  adversity,  indeed,  that  their  affec- 
tion was  most  strikingly  and  emphatically  mani- 
fested. When  his  path  was  darkest,  they  did  not 
fear  to  tread  in  it.  When  the  storm  raged  most 
violently,  they  did  not  shrink  from  exposing  their 
unsheltered  heads  to  the  tempest. 

One,  only,  of  his  disciples  returned  from  flight,  to 
be  with  him  in  the  closing  scene  of  life.  And  how 
richly  was  he  repaid  in  receiving  the  sacred  trust 
bequeathed  by  filial  piety  in  words  that  should 
sink  deep  into  the  heart  of  every  child !  '  Behold 
thy  mother  ! ' 

But,  when  his  faint-hearted  disciples  forsook 
him  and  fled,  when  they  were  '  scattered  every 
one  to  his  own,'  as  Jesus  had  predicted,  women 
followed  him,  weeping,  to  the  place  of  crucifixion. 
Nor  was  this  all.  As  they  were  found  at  the 
cross,  so,  with  a  'love  stronger  than  death,'  they 
were  found,  also,  '  very  early  in  the  morning  at  the 
sepulchre,  with  spices  and  ointments  to  embalm 
him.' 

In  all  times  ;  in  savage  and  in  civilized  society ; 
the  same  noble,  generous,  humane,  self-sacrificing 


fll 


qualities  have  been  manifested  by  them.  In  ac- 
tive duty,  as  well  as  in  passive  suffering,  there  is  a 
patience  and  fortitude,  a  resolution  and  energy, — 
drriviiiir  strength  from  pressure,  —  for  which  we 
look  in  vain  in  the  stronger  sex. 

I  have  sometimes  heard  that  sex  speak  slight- 
ingly of  woman.  If  they  are  sincere,  I  pity  them. 
J)o  they  forget  the  mother  who  nursed  their  infan- 
cy, and  watched  over  them  in  health  and  sickness, 
hy  day  and  niirht.  \\ith  a  love  and  care  which  a 
mother  only  could  know?  Or  the  sister,  whose 
pure  and  simple  affection  contributes  so  much  to 
render  home  attractive  and  delightful ;  or  the  holy 
love  of  a  daughter  in  the  care  of  aged,  helpless  pa- 
rents  ;  or  the  faithful  constancy  and  attachment  of 
a  wife  amidst  the  broken  fortunes,  broken  health, 
and  broken  reputation  of  her  husband ;  sustaining 
those  arms  that,  perhaps,  had  been  raised  to  smite 
IHT.  and  moistening  the  parched  lips  that  had  been 
opened  to  curse  her  .' 

Wherever  woman  is  found,  she  is  an  angel  of 
mercy;  following  the  kind,  sympathizing  impulses 
of  her  nature,  to  the  shame,  too  often,  of  the  cold, 
calculating  charity  of  man. 

It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  the  only  four  pecu- 
niary bequests  to  this  parish,  of  which  I  have 
information,  are  the  testimonials  of  female  piety. 
One  of  them,  to  ihe  poor,  from  her  whom  all  re- 
member as  distinguished  Tor  all  that  is  dignified 
and  lovely  in  the  female  character.*  Another  from 

*  Mrs,  Eliot. 


142  THE    BENEDICTION    OF    THE    SAVIOUR  ; 

that  venerated  woman  whose  recent  death  has  left 
us  poorer  than  her  devise  can  compensate,  by  the 
loss  of  her  example. 

It  is  by  the  request  of  the  standing  committee 
of  the  parish,  that  I  announce  to-day,  in  public, 
what  has  already  been  privately  circulated,  that 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Derby,  in  addition  to  numerous 
other  benefactions,  has  bequeathed  to  the  Sunday 
School  connected  with  the  parish,  seven  hundred 
dollars,  the  interest  to  be  appropriated  towards  the 
support  of  the  school ;  seven  hundred  dollars,  the 
interest  to  be  devoted  to  the  relief  of  the  aged  poor 
in  the  parish  ;  and  five  thousand  dollars,  the  inte- 
rest to  be  expended  in  such  a  manner  as  the  exi- 
gencies of  the  parish  may  demand. 

The  ancestors  of  Mrs.  Derby  were  members  of 
the  parish  at  its  formation.  Here  her  fathers  wor- 
shipped. Here  she  was  herself  consecrated  to  GOD 
in  baptism,  administered  by  Mayhew,  who  stands 
in  the  foremost  rank  among  the  departed  ministers 
of  our  country.  Here,  during  the  ministry  of  the 
judicious  and  benevolent  Howard,  she  first  ful- 
filled her  baptismal  obligation  to  commemorate  her 
Saviour ;  and  here,  when  the  Providence  of  GOD 
permitted,  she  statedly  and  devoutly  paid  her  vows 
in  the  morning  and  evening  service. 

She  '  loved  the  habitation  of  GOD'S  house.'  She 
loved  this  house.  It  was  associated  with  her  dear- 
est recollections,  and  she  had  no  wish  to  wan- 
der from  it.  Here,  and  here  only,  on  the  returning 
Sabbath,  she  felt  it  her  duty  and  her  privilege  to 


143 


unite  with  her  fellow  Christians  in  Christian  wor- 
ship. 

Nor  was  her  fidelity  to  duty  confined  to  a  regular 
and  devout  observance  of  the  institutions  of  reli- 
gion. It  pervaded  her  whole  Life,  and  was  exhib- 
ited in  all  her  conduct. 

As  a  wife,  how  affectionate  and  devoted !  '  The 
heart  of  her  husband  did  safely  trust  in  her.*  De- 
prived of  his  sight  during  a  great  part  of  the  last 
years  of  his  life,  her  tenderness  and  watchful  care 
wen-  peculiarly  needful  to  him;  and  they  were 
faithfully  and  assiduously  bestowed.  She  was  his 
constant  companion,  watching  him,  and  guiding 
his  footsteps ;  leaving  him  only,  for  brief  periods,  to 
perform  acts  of  friendship  or  mercy.  She  strictly 
complied  with  the  apostolic  injunction  to  the  mar- 
ried of  her  sex,  to  be  '  keepers  at  home.' 

When  her  husband  was  translated  to  a  world 
where  the  inhabitant  '  shall  not  say,  I  am  sick,' 
she  had  leisure  for  more  active  and  diffusive  benefi- 
cence, and  did  not  fail  to  improve  it.  Her  ample 
fortune  enabled  her  to  gratify  the  wishes  of  her 
heart  in  benefactions  to  the  poor.  She  gave  only 
what  belonged  to  her,  and  what,  therefore,  she 
had  a  right  to  give.  She  gave  judiciously,  and, 
therefore,  not  indiscriminately  nor  without  in 
gallon. 

As  far  as  her  attention  to  domestic  duties, — 
which  she  never  neglected,  —  would  permit,  she 
rendered  her  personal  services  to  such  of  our  public 
charitable  institutions  as  it  was  appropriate  for  her 


144  THE    BENEDICTION    OF    THE    SAVIOUR', 

thus  to  aid.  She  was  in  the  government  of  one 
of  the  most  useful  and  interesting  of  them  for  seve- 
ral years ;  and,  from  her  good  judgment  and  ex- 
perience, her  cooperation  and  counsel  were  much 
valued. 

This  excellent  woman  has  passed  away.  She 
can  no  longer  '  go  about  doing  good.'  She  can  no 
longer  join  with  us  in  worship  in  this  house  of  our 
solemnities,  which  she  loved  so  well.  But  she  has 
gone  to  join  with  the  blessed  in  the  worship  of 
*a  temple  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens.' 

Whilst  we  call  up  her  virtues  to  remembrance, 
may  her  example  of  fidelity,  hallowed  as  it  now  is 
by  her  death,  be  diligently  followed  out  in  our 
lives ! 

I  have  felt  that  it  was  demanded  of  me,  in  no- 
ticing so  considerable  a  benefaction  to  us,  to 
dwell  thus  much  upon  the  character  of  our  bene- 
factress. 

In  the  present  flourishing  state  of  the  parish, 
there  was  no  pressing  demand  for  this  legacy.  But 
who  can  tell  what  shall  be  on  the  morrow  ?  And, 
even  now,  there  are  important  objects  to  which  it 
may  be  usefully  devoted.  Respecting  the  mode 
of  appropriation,  I  have  no  anxiety.  I  only  desire, 
—  and  the  experience  of  the  past  warrants  me  in 
expecting  it,  —  that  no  difference  of  opinion  on  this 
subject,  may  interrupt  our  harmony ;  that  this, 
which  was  designed  as  a  blessing,  may  not  prove  a 
root  of  bitterness ;  that  the  minority  will  readily 


14") 


yield  to  the  majority,  as,  on  all  questions  heretofore, 
they  have  done;  and  I  hat  \ve,  and  those  who  come 
al'tor  us,  in  all  future  time,  —  as  it  has  been  in  the 
past,  — may  fully  realize  '  how  good  and  pleasant  it 
is  for  brethren  to  dwell  together  in  unity/ 


VOL.    II.  13 


146 


SERMON  XXIII. 


SUBMISSION. 

Job    1.    21. —  THE    LORD    GAVE    AND    THE  LOED   HATH    TAKEN  AWAY. 
BLESSED   BE   THE  NAME   OF   THE  LORD  ! 

THE  language  of  the  text  is  not  less  the  language 
of  reason  than  of  piety. 

It  recognizes  GOD  as  the  Author  of  our  blessings ; 
intimates  His  right  to  dispose  of  them  as  He  pleases ; 
and  adores  Him,  both  in  His  giving  and  taking 
away. 

He  who  uttered  these  words  is  presented  to  us  as 
an  instance  of  accumulated  sufferings ;  and  as  an 
example  of  patient  acquiescence. 

Three  successive  messengers,  and  in  rapid  succes- 
sion, informed  him  of  the  loss  of  his  property ;  but  it 
was  not  till  the  fourth  came,  and  mingled  in  his 
cup  the  bitterest  ingredient,  bringing  him  the  tidings 
of  the  death  of  his  children,  that  he  gave  vent  to 
his  feelings. 

He  then  *  opened  his  mouth ; '  but  not  to  com- 
plain. '  The  Lord  gave  and  the  Lord  hath  taken 
away.  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord.' 

The  Lord  gave.  He  does  not  forget,  in  the 
midst  of  his  sorrows,  to  acknowledge  the  goodness 


SUBMISSION.  147 

of  GOD  in  having  bestowed  the  blessings  he  had 
lost. 

All  his  happiness  in  the  enjoyment  of  them,  all 
his  anticipations  of  comfort  in  their  continued  pos- 
session, we  may  suppose  came  up  to  his  mind,  and 
furnished  a  subject  of  grateful  recollection. 

*  If  I  have  had  larger  possessions  than  all  the 
men  of  the  East;  if  I  have  been  the  father  of  a 
numerous  family ;  the  object  of  respect  and  defer- 
ence to  the  aged  and  to  the  young ;  if  the  voice  of 
health  and  joy  has  been  heard  in  my  dwelling,  and, 
till  now,  no  cloud  has  come  over  to  darken  the  sun 
of  my  prosperity,  it  is  GOD  who  has  made  me  thus 
to  differ  from  others ;  and  though  I  am  now  stripped 
of  all,  I  will  not  forget  His  past  goodness,  nor  refuse 
to  adore  it.' 

The  Lord  hath  taken  away. 

In  recognizing  GOD  as  the  source  of  his  blessings, 
it  was  his  privilege  and  comfort  to  discern  the  same 
Bring  as  the  author  of  his  calamities.  The  Sa- 
beans  and  the  Chaldeans  had  carried  away  his 
flocks;  fire  had  burnt  up  his  substance;  and  a 
wind  from  the  wilderness  had  overthrown  the  house 
in  which  his  children  were  assembled,  and  had  de- 
stroyed them  all.  Yet  he  looked  not  to  the  enemy, 
the  fire,  or  the  tempest  as  the  source  of  his  misfor- 
tunes. He  considered  these  as  but  instruments  in 
the  hands  of  Him  *  whose  kingdom  ruleth  over  all,' 
and  ascending  from  second  causes  to  the  first  Cause 
of  all  things,  devoutly  exclaimed  'the  Lord  hath 
taken  away!' 


148 


SUBMISSION. 


'  The  same  hand  which  bestowed  my  blessings 
hath  removed  them.  I  rejoice  that  I  am  not  obliged 
to  ascribe  to  chance  or  accident  the  evils  that  have 
befallen  me.  They  have  the  same  origin  with  my 
mercies.  They  are  the  appointments  of  Infinite 
Wisdom.  They  come  from  GOD.  Blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  Lord.' 

Jt  was  no  ordinary  effort  to  maintain  his  firmness 
under  the  pressure  of  sudden  and  aggravated  ca- 
lamity. It  was  a  great  effort  to  bend  with  submis- 
sion to  the  stroke.  But  how  sublime  the  spectacle 
of  this  good  man  lifting  his  eyes  to  heaven  in 
devout  thankfulness,  and  blessing  the  hand  that 
corrected  him.  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord. 

'  I  bless  God,'  —  so  we  may  interpret  this  lan- 
guage,—  'for  what  I  have  possessed,  and  that  I 
possessed  it  so  long.  I  bless  GOD  that  the  expe- 
rience of  His  past  goodness  affords  me  the  fullest 
evidence  that  He  is  still  good  to  me ;  and  that  it  is 
in  mercy  He  afflicts  me.  I  bless  GOD  that,  whilst  I 
am  stript  of  every  earthly  comfort,  I  am  allowed  to 
repose  myself  on  Him,  and  to  find  in  Him  a  sup- 
ply for  my  loss.  I  bless  GOD,'  —  may  we  not  sup- 
pose that  he, —  even  though  a  bereaved  father, — 
could  say,  *  I  bless  GOD  for  the  lesson  He  is  giving 
me  in  this  stroke,  of  the  frailty  and  instability  of 
my  possessions.' 

Such  was  the  spirit  of  the  patriarch  whose  pious 
ejaculation  has  been  the  guide  of  our  reflections. 
He  could  not  only  be  patient,  but  resigned,  not  only 
resigned,  but  thankful.  Nor  was  his  patience,  his 


SUBMISSION.  149 

submission,  the  result  of  insensibility.  If  he  bore 
his  trials  like  a  saint,  he  felt  as  a  man.  The  feel- 
ings of  nature  are  continually  bursting  forth  through 
the  whole  of  the  book  which  contains  his  history, 
and  they  are  restrained  and  regulated  by  pious 
trust. 

Through  a  succession  of  many  ages  has  Ihis 
example  descended  to  be  the  pattern  and  the  guide 
of  all  who  are  in  trouble.  It  becomes  us  to  copy,  if 
we  may  not  reach  it. 

A  111  ict  ion  now,  as  then,  is  the  lot  of  man.  How- 
ever fair  and  bright  may  be  the  visions  of  childhood 
and  youth,  they  must  vanish  before  the  sober  and 
sad  realities  of  mature  age. 

GOD  has  given  us  kind  affections ;  they  are  the 
source  of  the  purest  and  highest  enjoyment;  but, 
sooner  or  later,  they  are  destined  to  be  the  source 
of  the  bitterest  anguish. 

The  objects  on  which  they  are  placed  prove  un- 
worthy of  them;  or  they  are  taken  away,  and  the 
heart  must  bleed. 

But  I  will  not  enlarge.  I  dare  not  trust  myself 
on  this  theme.  I  have  no  desire  to  excite  your 
feelings  by  indulging  my  own. 

If  I  have  sympathized  with  you  in  your  seasons 
of  trouble,  so  I  am  assured  of  your  sympathy  in 
my  own  affliction. 

Having  now  a  deeper  fellow-feeling,  than  ever,  of 
your  sorrow,  I  may  be  better  able  to  minister  to 
your  consolation.  Experiencing,  as  I  humbly  trust 
I  do,  the  supports  of  that  religion  which  it  is  rny 

13* 


150 


SUBMISSION. 


office  to  teach,  I  may,  with  the  more  confidence, 
present  to  you  those  comforts  with  which,  —  I 
would  humbly  say,  — i  I  myself  am  comforted 
of  GOD.' 

My  confidence  in  the  wisdom  and  rectitude  of 
the  Divine  administration,  is  unshaken. 

My  belief  in  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
in  the  promises  of  his  gospel,  is  the  anchor  of  my 
hope,  and  the  source  of  my  consolation. 

I  have  a  firm  conviction  that  '  it  is  good  to  be 
afflicted.'  i  Whom  the  Lord  loveth,  HE  chasteneth.' 
Not  for  his  pleasure,  but  for  our  profit;  that  we 
may  be  partakers  of  His  holiness. 

Welcome,  then,  chastening,  if  thou  art  a  proof 
of  the  love  of  my  GOD  !  Welcome  thou  kind,  be- 
nevolent messenger  of  a  most  kind  and  benevolent 
Parent !  Though  thy  countenance  be  frowning,  thy 
message  is  peaceful.  Though  thou  comest  to  inter- 
rupt my  security,  and  disturb  my  peace,  thou  art 
the  harbinger,  —  if  meekly  received,  and  rightly 
used,  —  of  more  lasting  security;  of  uninterrupted 
and  eternal  joy. 

I  am  willing  to  leave  myself  in  the  hands  of  GOD  ; 
assured  that  my  best  interests  are  safe  in  His  hands  ; 
that  He  will  not  afflict  me  more  than  is  needful  for 
me;  and  trusting  that  he  will  give  me  grace,  in 
every  bereavement,  to  say,  '  THE  LORD  GAVE  AND 

THE  LORD  HATH  TAKEN  AWAY.  BLESSED  BE  THE 
NAME  OF  THE  LORD!' 


SERMON   XXIV. 


Till:    DIVINE  DISPENSATIONS  NOT  TO   BE  QUESTIONED, 
BUT  SUBMITTED  TO  AND  IMPROVED.* 

Job  il.  12.  —  BEIIOLD,  HE  TAKETII  AW  AT,  AND  WIIO  CAN  HINDER  HIM  ? 

WERE  I  allowed  to  follow  the  impulse  of  my 
feelings,  I  would  banish  from  this  place  all  associa- 
tions that  are  sad  and  gloomy,  and  cause  it  ever  to 
resound  with  the  notes  of  joy. 

1  would  conic  hither  to  speak  only  of  scenes 
of  unmixed  happiness;  and  to  call  for  a  tribute  of 
grateful  pra; 

IJut  He  who  doeth  His  pleasure  in  heaven  and 
on  earth,  and  who  is  infinitely  wise  and  good,  has 
ordered  otherwise.  The  providence  of  GOD  forbids 
it. 

In  the  cup  of  life  there  are  many  bitter  ingre- 
dients. 


*  There  is  an  allusion  in  this  sermon   to   a   distressing  catas- 
trophe which  had  just  taken  place. 

•  ling  lady,  the  wife  of  one  parishioner,  and  daughter  of 
another,  in  a  storm  at  sea,  was  awept  from  the  vessel  by  the  winds 
into  the  ocean,  and  perished  in  the  sight  of  her  agonized  husband, 
who  was  unable  to  make  an  effort  for  her  rescue. 


152  THE    DIVINE    DISPENSATIONS 

From  the  day  we  are  born,  till  the  day  we  die, 
there  is  an  invariable  mixture  of  joy  and  sorrow. 
Blessing  and  trials,  prosperity  and  adversity,  pleas- 
ure and  pain,  succeed  each  other  as  surely,  though 
not  as  regularly,  as  the  return  of  day  and  night, 
summer  and  winter ;  and,  like  the  confines  of  day 
and  night,  summer  and  winter,  insensibly  slide 
into  each  other.  GOD  hath  joined  them,  and  we 
cannot  put  them  assunder. 

I  look  round  upon  this  congregation,  and  my  eye 
can  scarcely  rest  upon  a  single  family  into  which 
sorrow  in  some  shape  or  other  has  not  found  ad- 
mission. 

I  appeal  to  the  experience  of  you  all. 

I  behold  many  of  you  toiling,  with  unwearied 
diligence,  for  the  riches,  or  the  honors,  or  the 
enjoyments  of  the  world. 

I  witness  your  ardor,  your  perseverence,  your 
confidence. 

I  hear  you  laying  your  plans ;  boasting  of  their 
wisdom ;  declaring  your  assurance  of  their  success ; 
calculating  your  profits  and  emoluments. 

Suddenly,  a  cloud  appears  which  darkens  your 
prospects ;  a  tempest  arises  which  sweeps  away 
your  hopes,  and  destroys  your  confidence. 

Again,  I  behold  you  in  the  midst  of  your 
families;  loving  and  beloved  by  them.  I  rejoice 
that  your  mountain  appears  to  ;  stand  so  strong ; ' 
and  that  there  is  no  reason  to  believe  <  it  will  soon 
be  moved.'  I  come  again  and  again ;  and  the  wel- 
coming voice  is  the  voice  of  gladness. 


NOT    TO    BE    QUESTIONED,    ETC.  153 

Sickness  approaches,  and  damps  your  joy;  or 
death  unexpectedly  enters,  reverses  the  scene,  and 
changes  your  joy  into  mourning. 

The  world  is  full  of  uncertainties.  Its  best  sat- 
isfactions are  neither  substantial  nor  permanent. 
For  a  while  we  dream  of  happiness,  but  often  awake 
and  find  it  an  illusion. 

I  have  been  accustomed,  whilst  I  witnessed  your 
afllietions,  to  do  what  I  was  able  for  their  relief; 
and  when  you  came  hither  to  '  humble  yourselves 
under  the  hand  of  Almighty  GOD,'  to  tender  you 
the  consolations  which  His  Word  has  provided  for 
you. 

Topics  of  consolation,  at  such  times,  are  pecu- 
liarly grateful.  Topics  of  a  different  character  are 
harsh  and  unwelcome. 

Nor  will  you  do  your  minister  the  injustice 
to  believe  that  he  could  readily  turn  his  thoughts  to 
other  subjects  under  such  circumstances  as  these. 

ft  is  for  him  to  mingle  closely  in  your  domestic 
griefs,  as  well  as  joys ;  to  witness  *  the  hope  deferred 
that  maketh  the  heart  sick,'  in  the  case  of  dying,  or 
the  expectation  of  absent  friends ;  and  to  witness, 
too,  the  extinction  of  that  hope,  in  the  sad,  over- 
whelming certainty,  that  they  will  never  recover; 
and  never,  never,  return  again. 

Called  to  witness,  and  to  share  in, — yes,  largely 
to  share  in,  —  the  grief  of  such  scenes  as  these; 
whilst  they  weigh  down  his  heart,  they  dwell  in  his 
mind,  and  must  deeply  tinge  the  current  of  thought, 
when  he  is  preparing  for  the  service  of  the  sanc- 
tuary. 


154  THE    DIVINE    DISPENSATIONS 

It  is  well  that  it  is  so.  Such  topics,  whilst  they 
bring  consolation  to  the  hearts  of  the  mourners,  are 
not  without  their  use  to  all. 

They  serve  to  fortify  the  mind  against  the 
night  of  affliction  which  must  descend  upon  every 
one. 

They  excite  sympathetic  emotions  towards  those 
to  whom  they  are  more  particularly  addressed. 

They  bring  into  closer  union  the  members  of  a 
religious  society,  by  the  reflections  on  each  other's 
condition  which  they  occasion,  and  the  feelings  of 
sympathy  they  excite.  They  tend  to  awaken  us 
to  a  sense  of  our  own  condition  as  dependent, 
mortal  beings. 

Having  made  these  prefatory  remarks,  which  I 
trust  are  not  inappropriate  or  useless,  I  proceed  to 
the  more  immediate  subject  of  my  discourse. 

BEHOLD,  HE  TAKETH  AWAY;  AND  WHO  CAN  HINDER 
HlM?  WHO  CAN  SAY  UNTO  HlM,  WHAT  DOEST 
THOU? 

Religion  is  not  satisfied  with  directing  our  atten- 
tion to  second  causes.  It  leads  us  above  them  to 
the  GREAT  FIRST  CAUSE  of  all  things. 

It  conducts  us  to  that  Infinite  BEING  who,  from 
His  exalted  throne  in  the  heavens,  directs  the 
affairs  of  this  vast  universe ;  who  determines  in  His 
wisdom  the  succession  of  events;  who  discerns 
and  adopts  the  fittest  means  to  accomplish  the  best 
ends  ;  who  '  forms  the  light,  and  creates  darkness ; ' 
'  who  makes  peace,  and  creates  evil ; '  and  who 
would  always  appear  to  us  '  most  wise  in  counsel, 


NOT    TO    BE    QUESTIONED,    ETC.  155 

and  most  excellent  in  working,'  if  our  feeble  under- 
standings could  comprehend  the  design  and  reason 
of  His  operations. 

It  conducts  us  to  GOD  :  and  presents  Him  to  us 
under  the  mild  aspect  of  a  Father,  always  mindful 
of  our  happiness;  and  who  has  given  us  so  many 
proofs  of  this  in  nature,  providence,  and  grace,  as 
to  merit  our  entire  confidence,  and  unreserved 
submission. 

We  have  abundant  need  of  the  consolation  which 
religion  thus  affords;  and  I  know  not  any  other 
source  from  whence  light  and  comfort  could  be 
drawn  amidst  the  evils  of  our  condition  on  earth. 

I  see  and  feel  that  we  are  the  heirs  of  sorrow.  I 
find  in  the  revelation  which  religion  has  made  to 
me,  of  the  being,  perfections,  and  providence  of 
GOD,  the  design  and  end  of  affliction. 

I  see  and  feel  that  there  is  much  in  the  present 
state  of  things  to  perplex  the  understanding,  as  \\  <  11 
as  to  wound  the  heart.  I  find  in  the  revelation 
which  religion  has  made  to  me  another  and  better 
world,  where  my  perplexities  will  be  resolved,  and 
my  troubles  cease. 

I  place  my  trust  in  the  blessings  of  this  life,  and 
find  them  vain.  I  lean  upon  an  arm  of  flesh, 
and  it  is  '  a  broken  reed.'  I  turn  to  GOD  ;  the  GOD 
whom  religion  reveals  to  me.  I  lean  upon  the  arm 
of  GOD,  and  it  does  not  fail  me.  Those  whom  I 
love  and  value,  —  and  who  might  well  be  loved  and 
valued,  —  are  taken  away  from  me.  '  In  the  soli- 
tndc  of  my  soul'  I  turn  to  GOD,  and  find  that  if  all 


156  THE    DIVINE    DISPENSATIONS 

were  taken,  '  I  am  not  alone,  because  the  FATHER 
is  with  me.' 

And  in  saying  this,  Christians,  do  I  not  speak  the 
language  of  your  hearts?  If  you  are  real  Chris- 
tians, I  do. 

I  see  you  deprived  of  your  health ;  stript  of  your 
substance ;  or  bereft  of  your  friends ;  and  if  I  did 
not  find  a  response  in  your  hearts  when  I  speak  to 
you  of  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  GOD  ;  of  the 
consolations  and  hopes  of  the  gospel  of  Christ;  I 
should  strive  in  vain  to  console  you. 

You  have  lost,  —  and  if  religion  had  no  comfort 
for  you,  —  irretrievably  lost,  —  one  of  the  nearest 
and  dearest  objects  of  your  earthly  affection.  It  is 
mournful  indeed,  —  nay,  it  is  bitter  anguish,  which 
may  be  felt,  but  which,  if  it  were  desirable,  could 
not  be  described, — when,  in  the  midst  of  our  earthly 
happiness,  death  comes  in  to  blast  our  hopes  for 
earth,  in  regard  to  those  who  are  dearest  to  us. 

At  such  a  moment,  philosophy,  —  valuable  as  it 
is  in  itself,  —  has  no  effectual  help  for  us. 

It  is  in  vain  to  tell  us  that  grief  is  unavailing ; 
that  in  time  it  will  abate,  and  that  at  the  longest  its 
duration  must  be  short.  It  is  still  more  vain  to  tell 
us,  in  the  language  of  ancient  stoicism,  tha*t  *  pain 
is  no  evil,'  when  we  keenly  feel  that  it  is  so.  It  is 
in  vain  to  tell  us  to  turn  from  our  sorrows  to  amuse- 
ments, when  we  could  not  if  we  would,  and  should 
abhor  to  do  so,  if  we  could. 

Various  and  contradictory  maxims  may  be  urged 
upon  us,  and  to  all  we  must  reply  with  the  ancient 
sufferer,  ;  Miserable  comforters  are  ye  all.' 


NOT    TO    BE    QUESTIONED,    ETC.  157 

But  it  is  not  in  vain  to  tell  us  to  direct  our  thoughts 
to  GOD;  to  make  an  oblation  of  our  wills  to  HIM; 
to  submit  to  sufferings  which  are  the  chastenings  of 
a  PARENT,  whose  designs  are  kindest  when  His  dis- 
pensations are  most  severe;  to  drink  of  the  bitter 
cup  we  would  avoid,  without  reproaching  the  Hand 
which  administered  the  distasteful,  but  salutary  pre- 
scription ;  and  to  say,  *  I  was  dumb,  I  opened  not 
my  mouth,  because  THOU  didst  it.' 

There  is  too  much  disposition  in  mankind  to  dis- 
regard the  Providence  of  GOD;  to  overlook  His 
agency  in  the  occurrences  of  life.  Even  in  those 
events  in  which  there  is  the  most  signal  interposi- 
tion of  Providence,  this  disposition  is  apparent.  In 
the  restoration  of  health,  how  common  is  it  to  rest 
in  subordinate  agents,  instead  of  going  beyond  them 
to  HIM  to  whom  the  praise  is  chiefly  due.  '  It  was 
the  skill  of  the  physician,'  too  often  it  is  said, — 
*  the  tender  assiduity  of  friendship,  or  the  peculiar 
excellence  and  efficacy  of  the  means  that  were 
used.'  '  Were  there  not  ten  cleansed  ?  But  where 
are  the  nine  ? ' 

Indeed  the  skill  of  the  physician,  and  the  assiduity 
of  friendship,  and  the  means  that  were  used,  were 
but  instruments  in  the  hands  of  GOD.  *  Except  the 
LORD  build  the  house,  they  labor  in  vain  that  build 
it.' 

In  the  loss  of  friends,  too ;  when  the  gourd  under 
whose  shade  we  had  solaced  ourselves  is  withered ; 
how  often  do  we  hear  deep,  but  unavailing  regrets 
that  a  different  course  had  not  been  adopted  from 

VOL.    II.  14 


158 


THE    DIVINE    DISPENSATIONS 


that  which  was  actually  pursued.  *  Had  I  em- 
ployed another  physician ;  tried  a  certain  remedy  ; 
removed  my  friend  to  the  country  ;  or  retained  him 
in  town ;  he  might  still  have  been  with  me.' 

If  the  course  pursued,  and  the  means  that  were 
used,  were  those  which,  to  thy  best  judgment,  ap- 
peared to  be  right ;  thou  hast  no  cause  to  indulge 
the  feelings  of  regret.  It  was  the  will  of  GOD,  who 
cannot  err,  that  thy  friend  should  die.  Yet  he  died 
but  to  live  again.  Was  he  prepared  ?  he  lives  in 
heaven.  Be  thankful  that  the  blessing  was  enjoyed. 
Be  submissive  now  that  it  is,  for  a  season,  with- 
drawn. Gird  up  thy  loins,  and  prepare  to  follow. 

There  is  no  time  when  we  feel  more  sensibly  our 
weakness  and  insufficiency,  than  when  our  earthly 
hopes  are  prostrated  by  the  removal  of  those  whom, 
we  love. 

In  vain  has  been  all  our  solicitude  and  care ;  our 
precautions  and  our  efforts  vain.  If  the  will  of 
GOD  has  decreed  it,  nothing  that  we  could  do,  will 
counteract  His  purpose.  The  creatures  of  His  pow- 
er are  subject  to  His  disposal.  He  who  gave  life, 
can  take  it  away,  and  who  can  hinder  HIM  ? 

But  if  we  feel  our  weakness  and  insufficiency ;  if 
we  feel  that  our  precautions  are  useless,  and  our  ef- 
forts unavailing,  against  the  Providence  of  GOD  ; 
the  most  thoughtless  of  us,  —  it  may  be  presumed, 
—  is  never  tempted,  in  the  language  of  presumption 
and  impiety,  to  say  i  What  doest  Thou  ?  ' 

i  Behold,  He  taketh  away^  and  who  can  hinder 
HIM?' 


NOT    TO    BE    QUESTIONED,    ETC.  159 

It  was  inevitable.  We  have  done  what  we  could 
to  prevent  it ;  to  give  stability  and  permanency  to 
what  is  in  its  nature  unstable  and  fleeting;  to 
stay  the  flight  of  the  spirit  which  GOD  had  sum- 
moned to  Himself,  and  which  was  struggling  to 
get  loose  from  its  mortal  coil.  But  it  was  to  no 
purpose.  The  word  had  gone  forth,  i  Dust  thou  art, 
and  unto  dust  shalt  thou  return ; '  and  that  which 
was  warm  with  life  becomes  cold  in  death. 

It  is  the  part  of  wisdom,  as  well  as  piety,  to  be 
*  still.'  Our  complaints  would  be  as  unavailing  as 
our  efforts  to  prevent  had  been  fruitless. 

It  may  be  that  the  Providence  is  mysterious  and 
inexplicable.  A  mother's  care  may  have  been  with- 
drawn from  young  children,  and  that  mother  anx- 
ious and  devoted.  The  stroke  may  have  fallen 
thrice  in  the  same  family  in  a  little  time,  and  the 
days  of  youth  and  loveliness  have  been  numbered. 

4  The  way  of  GOD  may  have  been  in  the  sea.' 
The  raging  wind  may  have  swept  away,  the  stormy 
ocean  may  have  swallowed  up,  some  of  the  dearest 
objects  of  our  love.  We  have  seen  them  perish  and 
our  help  was  vain.  Or  we  have  waited  their  return ; 
but  '  the  place  which  once  knew  them  shall  know 
them  no  more.'  '  We  looked  for  peace,  but  no  good 
came.'  *  Behold  He  taketh  away,  and  who  can 
hinder  HIM.' 

If  we  should  be  tempted,  in  the  bitterness  of 
grief,  to  ask  <  What  doest  Thou?'  the  inquiry 
would  come  back  upon  us, '  Who  art  thou  that  repli- 
est  against  GOD  ? '  '  What  hast  thou  that  thou 
didst  not  receive?' 


160  THE    DIVINE    DISPENSATIONS 

But  if  it  does  not  become  thee  to  murmur,  it 
becomes  thee  to  submit  and  adore ;  to  be  grateful 
for  the  consolation  that  is  afforded  thee  in  thy  recol- 
lections and  thy  hopes ;  in  the  word  of  Him  who 
came  to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  and  to  pour  the 
oil  of  gladness  into  the  wounded  spirit. 

Nor  is  this  all.  It  becomes  thee  to  open  thy  heart 
to  the  devout  impressions  which  the  affliction  that 
is  appointed  thee  is  adapted  to  make ;  to  gather  in- 
struction from  the  Providence  of  GOD  ;  and  be  able 
to  say  with  the  ancient  sufferer,  *  It  is  good  for  me 
to  be  afflicted.' 

4  Whomsovever  the  Lord  loveth  He  chasteneth, 
not  for  His  pleasure,  but  for  our  profit ;  that  we 
might  be  partakers  of  His  holiness.' 

What  would  become  of  us  if  our  b'fe  were  an 
unmingled  portion  of  good ;  if  our  day  were  never 
darkened  with  the  clouds  of  adversity?  Should 
we  not  say  with  the  apostle  on  the  mount  of  trans- 
figuration, *  It  is  good  for  us  to  be  here ; '  and  put  far 
away  from  our  thoughts  what  it  would  be  so  dread- 
ful to  realize  ?  Should  we  not  forget  the  value  of 
our  blessings ;  and  be  regardless  of  the  FOUNTAIN 
whilst  the  streams  were  full  ?  Strange  as  it  is,  we 
forget  GOD  because  HE  never  forgets  us.  The  very 
multitude  of  His  blessings  makes  us  unmindful  of 
HIM;  as  the  thick  foliage  of  the  spreading  tree 
shuts  out  the  light  of  that  sun  to  which  it  owes  its 
verdure  and  beauty. 

It  is  not  when  the  wind  is  fair,  and  the  sails  are 
filled  with  a  prosperous  gale,  that  the  mariner  is 


NOT    TO    BE    QUESTIONED     ETC.  161 

found  at  his  devotions,  but  when  the  storm  is  up 
and  the  sea  rages,  and  the  waves  threaten  to  devour 
him. 

Who  is  there  that  does  not  acknowledge  that  a 
blessing  is  enhanced  by  the  fear  of  losing  it,  and 
that  its  value  is  never  fully  known  till  it  is  taken 
away? 

When  wearisome  days  and  nights  are  appointed 
us,  we  learn  to  prize  the  blessing  of  health.  When 
pinched  with  hunger  and  cold,  we  duly  estimate 
the  blessings  of  food  and  rainment. 

It  is,  alas !  when  we  are  robbed  of  our  friends, 
that  we  fully  realize  how  much  we  are  indebted  to 
GOD  for  them;  and  how  much  we  owe  for  what 
still  remains  to  us. 

Afflictions,  then,  are  intended  as  the  instruments 
of  good  to  us.  Afflictions  which,  by  the  grace  of 
GOD,  we  have  rightly  improved,  are  real  blessings. 
They  come  indeed  with  a  frowning  countenance, 
but  they  bear  a  message  of  peace.  They  come  to 
mingle  bitter  ingredients  in  the  cup  of  our  enjoy- 
ment, but  it  is  to  prevent  us  from  being  intoxicated 
by  the  draught.  They  come  to  break  asunder  the 
ties  which  bind  us  to  earth  and  earthly  things,  but 
it  is  to  unite  us  more  closely -to  heaven  and  GOD. 

Whatever  may  come  upon  U£,  here  is  a  shelter 
and  refuge  in  which  our  spirit  may  find  rest  by  re- 
posing itself  on  the  bosom  of  security  and  peace. 
Our  FATHER  is  at  the  helm  of  the  universe,  directing 
all  things  for  the  good  of  all. 

Let  us  then  bend  our  neck  to  the  yoke ;  and  learn 
14* 


162 


THE    DIVINE    DISPENSATIONS 


wisdom  from  the  things  that  we  suffer.  '  The  heart 
knoweth  its  own  bitterness  ; '  the  bitterness  of  los- 
ing what  contributed  so  much  to  the  happiness 
of  life.  But  it  may  also  knqw  the  sweetness  of  re- 
ligious hope;  of  affections  placed  on  higher  objects; 
of  mingling,  by  faith,  the  spirit  that  is  on  earth, 
with  the  spirit  that  is  in  heaven ;  of  the  anticipa- 
tion of  another  meeting  with  those  who  deserved 
its  love,  in  a  world  where  t  there  is  no  more  death.' 

My  hearers,  I  cannot  forbear  to  press  upon  you 
the  admonition  which  GOD,  in  His  Providence,  has 
so  forcibly  and  awfully  addressed  to  you  within  the 
last  few  weeks.  Whilst  your  feelings  prompt  you 
to  sympathize  with  the  afflicted,  forget  not  that  in 
youth,  as  well  as  in  maturity  and  old  age,  you  may 
be  called  away.  l  As  the  fishes  are  taken  in  an  evil 
net ;  and  as  the  birds  are  caught  in  a  snare,  so  are 
the  sons  of  men  snared  in  an  evil  time  when  it 
cometh  suddenly  upon  them.'  '  Man  knoweth  not 
his  time.'  c  He  cometh  forth  as  a  flower,  and  is  cut 
down.  He  neeth  also  as  a  shadow,  and  continueth 
not.' 

Death  is  ever  watching  at  our  side,  eager  to  stop 
the  current  of  life.  It  may  come  in  the  daytime, 
and  arrest  us  amidst  the  calls  of  business.  It  may 
come  in  the  night,  and  the  eyes  which  had  closed  in 
security  upon  the  world,  may  open  in  eternity.  It 
may  come  and  interrupt  our  festivities.  It  may  come 
and  find  us  at  our  devotions  :  and  happy,  —  were  it 
so,  —  if  the  voice  of  supplication  be  exchanged  for 
the  ceaseless  voice  of  praise.  It  may  come  in 


NOT    TO    BE    QUESTIONED,    ETC.  Hio 

the  quiet,  gentle  approaches  of  slow  and  wasting 
sickness;  or,  in  the  suddenness  and  severity  of 
violent  disease.  It  may  come  in  the  retired,  peace- 
ful scenes  of  domestic  life ;  or  it  may  come  upon 
the  boisterous  ocean,  in  the  whirlwind  and  the  storm. 
It  may  come  and  find  us  in  the  bosom  of  our  fami- 
ily ;  or  far  from  home,  *  by  strangers  honored,  and 
by  strangers  mourned.' 

Come  as  it  will,  may  we  be  ready,  by  the  bless- 
ing of  GOD,  to  bid  it  welcome.  Come  as  it  will, 
may  it  find  us  \vatehin<r.  'with  our  loins  girded  and 
our  lamps  burning/ 

There  is  a  voice  in  nature  around  us  little  less 
impressive  than  that  which  addresses  us  from  the 
grave.  It  speaks  in  the  fading,  withering  flowers, 
and  in  tin1  falling  leaf.  Let  us  not  fail  to  give  it 
language.  It  addresses  itself  to  our  hearts,  —  *  WE 


164 


SERMON  XXV. 


LESSONS  TO   BE  LEARNED   IN   THE   HOUSE  OF 
MOURNING. 

Eccles.  vii.  2.  —  IT  is  BETTER  TO  GO  TO  THE  HOUSE  OP  MOURNING  THAN 

TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  FEASTING. 

THESE  words,  at  first  sight,  appear  strange  and 
paradoxical. 

By  the  constitution  of  our  nature  we  are  strong- 
ly attracted  towards  scenes  and  objects  which  are 
cheerful  and  pleasant,  and  have  an  equal  repug- 
nance to  those  which  are  sad  and  gloomy. 

We  prefer  the  t  garment  of  praise,'  to  c  the  spirit 
of  heaviness ; '  the  house  of  mirth  to  that  of  sorrow 
and  mourning. 

How  then  can  it  be  well  for  us  to  contemplate 
those  objects  which  are  so  repugnant  to  the  feelings 
and  propensities  of  our  nature  ? 

Can  the  bed  of  pain,  and  sickness,  and  death  ;  a 
family  desolate ;  a  husband,  a  wife,  or  a  parent,  be- 
wailing the  loss  of  all  that  was  most  dear  ;  l  Rachel 
•weeping  for  her  children,  and  refusing  to  be  com- 
forted because  they  are  not ; '  can  such  objects  as 
these,  —  so  painful,  so  distressing, — be  fit  objects 


LESSONS    TO    BE    LEARNED,    ETC.  165 

for  our  contemplation ;    and  not  only  so,  but  the 
best  fitted  for  it  ? 

It  is  even  so.  The  author  of  the  text  has  not 
presented  to  us  a  proposition  apparently  so  strange, 
without  giving  his  reason  for  it. 

*  It  is  better,'  he  says,  '  to  go  to  the  house  of 
mourning  than  to  the  house  of  feasting,  for  this  is 
the  end  of  all  men,  and  the  living  will  lay  it  to  heart.' 

The  living-  will  lay  it  to  heart. 

It  would  be  well,  if,  in  fact,  it  were  always  so. 

It  would  be  well  if  the  living,  when  they  go  to 
the  house  of  mourning,  would  seriously  reflect  upon 
the  occasion  which  carries  them  thither,  and  the  in- 
timate concern  they  have  with  it ;  and  when  they 
come  away,  would  bring  upon  their  hearts  a  deep 
impression  of  the  truths  they  had  been  taught  there. 

It  may  be  that  they  go  to  witness  the  keenness  of 
parental  disappointment  in  the  early  blight  of  a 
parent's  hopes.  The  infant  that  but  just  returns 
the  smile  of  affection ;  or  the  little  child  that  has 
learned  to  speak  its  wants,  and  to  respond  to  the 
accents  of  tenderness,  is  the  object  of  the  funeral 
solemnities.  Or  a  youth  is  to  be  borne  to  the  grave ; 
the  grave  of  hopes,  alas  how  fond,  and  yet  how 
vain! 

It  may  be  that  they  go  to  witness  the  severance 
of  the  conjugal  tie.  The  husband,  or  the  wife,  and 
perhaps  in  the  early  period  of  their  union ;  and  it  may 
be,  by  a  stroke  as  sudden  as  it  is  severe,  laid  low  in 
death. 

They  go,  in  short,  to  behold  the  indiscriminate, 


166  LESSONS    TO    BE    LEARNED 

and  unsparing  ravages  of  the  last  enemy  ;  the  fair- 
est prospects  darkened,  and  the  most  interesting  and 
most  useful  lives  terminated. 

And  how  instructive  is  the  scene !  How  power- 
ful the  voice  which  speaks  silently,  but  impressively, 
to  the  understanding  and  the  heart. 

Its  first  address  is  to  those  who  have  the  deepest 
interest  in  the  scene ;  to  the  parent  whose  hopes 
are  blighted ;  to  those  who  have  lost  the  friends  of 
their  bosom,  their  associates  in  the  duties  and  cares, 
the  enjoyments  and  sorrows  of  life  ;  to  those  whose 
house,  in  the  mournful  and  mysterious  Providence 
of  GOD,  is  itself  the  house  of  mourning. 

Hard  indeed  is  the  lesson  of  mortality  which  is 
written  in  dust,  so  sacred,  so  dear. 

Mournful,  indeed,  the  voice  which  issues  from 
the  remains  of  what  was  once  so  lovely,  and  so 
much  loved !  And  who  will  lay  it  to  heart,  if  they 
do  not? 

Others  may  come  to  mix  in  a  crowd ;  to  behold 
a  show ;  to  pay  a  civil  compliment  to  an  afflicted 
family,  and  the  last  respect  to  a  neighbor  and  ac- 
quaintance. But  it  is  not  so  with  them.  They 
have  a  close  and  intimate  connection  with  what  is 
passing.  A  part  of  themselves,  of  what  was  bound 
to  them  by  the  closest  ties,  is  taken  away  ;  and  it 
will  be  required  of  them,  whilst  they  bow  their 
souls  in  submission,  to  learn  wisdom  from  'the 
things  which  they  suffer.' 

They  feel  that  all  they  most  value  is  unsubstan- 
tial and  vain,  and  they  must  learn  to  '  sit  more 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.         167 

loosely/  to  what  they  value  here,  and  to  lay  a  firmer 
hold  on  what  is  substantial  and  abiding. 

Tn  religion  they  will  find  a  source  of  consolation 
under  trials,  however  severe;  and  in  GOD  a  substi- 
tute for  every  other  friend.  HE  gives  and  takes 
away  in  mercy  and  kindness,  and  as  much  deserves 
our  confidence,  and  love,  and  gratitude,  in  taking, 
as  in  giving.  The  time  which  HE  appoints  is  the 
fittest.  All  the  circumstances  are  such  as  it  is  best 
they  should  be ;  and  if  we  gain  instruction,  and 
spi ritual  benefit,  from  our  disappointment  and  suf- 
fering, we  shall  be  more  than  repaid  for  all. 

The  season  of  affliction  is  a  season  peculiarly 
valuable.  It  is  a  season  consecrated  to  reflection 
and  prayer.  When  we  have  lost  that  which  gave 
to  life  its  highest  charm,  or  was  associated  with  all 
our  ideas  of  earthly  happiness,  the  world  appears 
empty  and  unattractive.  In  our  solitary  state, l  whom 
have  we  in  heaven  but  GOD  ;  and  who  on  earth  do 
we  desire  beside  HIM?'  If  we  think  and  feel  as 
we  ought,  we  turn  to  HIM  as  our  best,  our  only  re- 
source. 

But  the,  fire  which  does  not  melt,  hardens ;  and 
in  passing  through  the  furnace  of  affliction,  if  the 
heart  is  not  softened,  and  rendered  more  ductile  to 
serious  impressions,  it  becomes  less  alive  to  them ; 
and  the  design  of  affliction  is  frustrated,  —  per- 
verted. 

Nor  is  jt  only  for  those  who  are  most  nearly  and 
deeply  interested,  to  learn  the  lessons  that  are 
taught  in  the  house  of  mourning.  It  should  be  one 


168  LESSONS    TO    BE    LEARNED 

great  purpose  of  those  who  go  there,  to  have  their 
hearts  affected  by  the  monitory  instance  of  mor- 
tality which  is  presented  to  them.  They  should  go 
with  thoughtful  minds.  They  should  listen  with 
deep  attention  to  the  silent  preacher,  which,  in  the 
Providence  of  GOD,  is  admonishing  them  of  then- 
frailty,  and  of  the  instability  of  their  blessings. 
They  should  lift  up  their  hearts  in  prayer  that  they 
may  be  impressed,  and  awakened  to  repentance  and 
holiness.  They  should  come  away  with  thought- 
ful minds,  and  carry  with  them,  into  the  quiet  and 
the  active  scenes  of  life,  into  its  business  and  its 
relaxations,  the  recollection  of  what  they  have  seen 
and  heard. 

They  have  a  deep  concern  in  it ;  for  what  they 
have  seen  and  heard  is  an  exhibition  and  warning 
of  what  will  soon  happen  to  them. 

That  silent  teacher  has  only  taught  them  what 
they,  in  their  turn,  shall  teach  to  others,  in  the  silent 
language  of  death. 

And  can  it  be,  that  any  are  anxious  to  banish 
from  their  minds  what  concerns  them  so  nearly,  and 
to  get  rid  of  impressions,  —  if  they  have  been 
made,  —  which  are  so  important  to  their  eternal 
welfare  ? 

Can  it  be,  that  any  will  not  seek  to  revive  those 
impressions,  and  cherish  them,  and  strive,  by  the 
grace  of  GOD,  to  render  them  influential  on  their 
conduct  ? 

That  ancient  monarch  was  far  wiser  who  com- 
manded that  he  should  be  told  every  day,  4  Thou 


IN    THE    HOUSE    OF    MOURNING. 


169 


art  mortal.'  It  was  a  fact,  and  why  should  he  not 
be  told  of  it?  It  was  an  nil-important  fact,  and 
why  should  lie  not  be  olVn  told  of  it?  It  was  a 
fact  adapted  to  exert  an  influence  on  his  daily  con- 
duct, and  why  should  he  not  be  reminded  of  it 
every  day  ? 

The  young  are  taken.  The  middle-aged  are  taken. 
The  old  are  taken.  They  who  have  little,  and  they 
who  have  much;  the  happy  and  the  unhappy;  and 
as  none  are  exempt,  can  any  desire  to  be  exempt 
from  the  thoughts  of  mortality,  which  alone  can 
prepare  them  for  it  ? 

It  was  the  advice  of  a  heathen  poet,  *  Act  every 
day  as  if  it  were  thy  last.' 

'  Believe  that  every  morning's  ray 
Will  usher  in  thy  latest  day.* 

Though  the  advice  was  not  given  for  a  Christian 
purpose,  a  Christian  may  profit  by  it. 

If.  to  banish  the  thought  of  death  would  banish 
death  itself,  there  would  be  some  reason  for  striving 
to  forget  it.  But  how  strange  is  the  infatuation  to 
strivr  to  forget  what  it  is  of  infinite  moment  that 
we  should  remember  and  feel ;  to  shut  our  eyes  on 
the  brink  of  a  precipice! 

But  why  should  we  be  unwilling  to  entertain 
the  thought  of  death  ?  What  is  it?  It  is  not  an- 
nihilation. It  is  only  a  change  in  the  mode  of 
existence.  It  may  be  a  < -hange  for  the  better.  To 
little  children',  of  whom  our  Saviour  has  said  'of 
such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven/  it  is  an  introduc- 

TOL.  II.  15 


170 


LESSONS    TO    BE    LEARNED 


tion  to  that  kingdom.  To  the  righteous,  for  whom 
the  apostle  said  '  there  remaineth  a  rest,'  it  is  to 
enter  into  that  rest.  i  It  is  better,'  and  not  worse, 
4  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ.'  It  is  to  be  freed 
from  the  disappointments  and  sorrows  of  this 
life,  —  from  its  vexations  and  cares,  its  infirmi- 
ties and  sicknesses,  its  temptations  and  sins  ;  from 
all  that  troubles  and  distracts,  and  weighs  down 
our  spirits.  It  is  to  be  re-united  to  that  from  which 
we  are  severed,  to  regain  what  we  have  lost,  if  it 
will  be  necessary  to  our  happiness  to  receive  it 
again.  It  is  to  go  from  what  is  vain,  to  what  is 
real ;  from  what  is  unsubstantial,  to  what  is  sure  ; 
from  what  is  unsatisfying,  to  what  will  fill  the 
largest  capacities,  and  gratify  the  utmost  wishes  of 
the  soul. 

It  is  better  to  go  to  the  house  of  mourning  than 
to  the  house  of  feasting.  '  The  heart  of  the  wise 
is  in  the  house  of  mourning.' 

In  the  house  of  mourning  there  are  preachers  far 
more  eloquent,  my  hearers,  than  any  who  can  ad- 
dress you  from  this  place,  and  whose  eloquence, 
though  silent,  is  not  the  less  instructive  and  ener- 
getic. The  lessons  they  teach  concern  you  all,  and 
concern  you  deeply.  Their  admonition  is,  '  It  is 
appointed  unto  all  once  to  die.'  Man  knoweth 
not  his  time.  *  He  cometh  fortli  like  a  flower  and 
is  cut  down;  he  fleeth  also  as  a  shadow,  and 
continueth  not.  In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in 
death.' 

Turn  not  a  deaf  ear,  I  beseech  you,  to  the  admo- 


IN    THE    HOUSE    OF    MOURNING.  171 

nition  which  these  words  convey  to  you.     Ponder 
it!     Obey  it! 

Learn  a  lesson  of  instruction  from  the  victims 
whom  death  is  continually  immolating,  and  'so 
number  your  days  as  to  apply  your  hearts  unto 
wisdom-. 


172 


SERMON  XXYI. 


A   SENSE  OF   THE  PRESENCE    AND   BLESSING   OF  GOD 
INCONSISTENT  WITH  FEAR. 

Isaiah  xli.  10.  —  FEAR  THOU  NOT,  i  AM  WITH  THEE.  BE  NOT  DISMAYED, 

I  AM  THY   GOD. 

WE  should  have  reason  indeed  to  fear,  if  we 
were  left  to  contend  with  our  own  arm  against  the 
temptations,  or  to  struggle  in  our  strength  under 
the  sufferings  of  life.  It  requires  but  little  expe- 
rience to  convince  us  of  the  force  of  these  tempta- 
tions, and  the  weight  of  these  sufferings,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  of  our  utter  inability,  of  ourselves, 
to  resist  or  sustain  them. 

The  present  world  is  a  probationary  state.  Both 
temptations  and  sufferings  are  essential  to  it.  We 
are  not  to  be  surprised,  then,  as  though  <  some 
strange  thing  had  happened '  to  us,  when  we  are 
called  to  encounter  them.  They  are  a  part  of  the 
discipline  appointed  by  Infinite  Wisdom,  and  are 
designed  and  adapted  to  promote  our  improvement 
and  happiness. 

Still,  they  would  be  irresistible,  and  insupport- 
able, if  there  were  not  strength,  superior  to  our 
own,  to  uphold  and  aid  us  in  the  conflict. 


A    SENSE    OF    THE    PRESENCE    OF    GOD,    ETC.     173 

Praised  be  GOD,  in  the  assaults  of  our  spiritual 
enemies, — when  we  look  for  succor,  —  a  powerful 
arm,  stronger  than  the  strongest,  is  extended  for 
our  defence ;  and  in  the  time  of  trouble,  when  the 
clouds  gather  around  us,  and,  like  the  apostles,  we 
*  fear  as  we  enter  into  the  cloud,'  if  we  exercise  a 
pious  trust,  there  is  a  voice  from  the  cloud  whose 
language  is,  *  FEAR  THOU  NOT,  I  AM  WITH  THEE.  BE 

NOT  DISMAYED,  I  AM  THY   GoD.' 

Blessed  words  !  How  full  of  consolation !  How 
do  they  lighten  the  heavy  pressure  of  calamity,  and 
afford  a  balm  to  to  the  bleeding  heart! 

1  FEAR  THOU  NOT,  I  AM  WITH  THEE.' 

And  who  is  it  that  thus  comes,  in  the  time  of 
need,  to  speak  the  words  of  comfort,  and  to  hush 
our  fears  by  the  assurance  of  his  presence  and  aid  ? 
Who  is  it  that,  with  so  much  authority,  yet  Aviih 
so  much  tenderness,  bids  us  look  to  him  for  help 
when  other  help  is  vain? 

It  is  GOD.  Yes,  it  is  GOD.  HE  who  said  to  the 
waves  of  the  sea, '  Hitherto  shalt  thou  come  and  no, 
farther ; '  can  control  the  waves  of  affliction  as  they 
pass  over  the  soul,  that  they  shall  not  overwhelm 
us.  HE  who  '  doeth  His  pleasure  in  heaven  and 
on  earth ; '  who  is  higher  than  the  highest,  whom 
no  power  can  resist ;  condescends  to  *  pour  the  oil 
of  gladness  into  the  wounded  spirit,'  and  to  '  bind 
up  the  broken  in  heart.' 

Be  not  dismayed,  I  am  thy  GOD.  Almighty  in 
power;  infinite  in  wisdom;  perfect  in  goodness; 
what  can  we  desire  more  ?  If  HE  be  for  us,  '  who 


174 


A    SENSE    OF    THE    PRESENCE    OF    GOD 


can  be  against  us  ?  '  If  He  be  for  us,  we  need  not 
fear  i  though  the  earth  be  removed,  and  the  moun- 
tains be  carried  into  the  midst  of  the  sea.' 

Though  every  other  prop  should  fail  us,  if  we 
lean  upon  Him  we  shall  be  upheld. 

Though  every  other  refuge  should  be  withdrawn, 
if  we  can  flee  to  the  ROCK  OF  AGES  for  shelter,  we 
shall  find  a  covert  from  the  tempest.  Though  every 
other  friend  should  forsake  us,  if  we  are  secure  in 
the  friendship  of  GOD,  we  have  enough ;  for  we 
can  always  say,  in  our  most  solitary  state,  '/  am  not 
alone,  because  the  Father  is  with  me?  —  The  FATHER 
of  spirits,  HE  who  knoweth  our  frame,  and  remem- 
bereth  that  we  are  but  dust ;  '  and  as  a  father  pitieth 
his  children,  hath  pity  on  them  that  fear  Him.' 

Behold,  then,  thy  refuge,  Christian,  in  the  time  of 
trouble!  Behold  thy  Friend,  when  other  friends 
fail  thee, — thy  Protector,  when  other  protectors  are 
withdrawn  from  thee.  Whatever  calamity  has  be- 
fallen thee,  if  thou  reposest  thy  trust  in  GOD,  and 
doest  His  will,  thou  mayest  appropriate  to  thyself 
the  assurance  of  our  text,  ''Fear  thou  not,  I  am  with 
thee.''  Thou  mayest  appropriate  it  to  thyself,  and  it 
will  be  sufficient  for  thee.  Thou  canst  sustain  no 
loss  which  His  presence  and  blessing  cannot  supply. 
Thou  canst  need  no  strength  which  His  omnipo- 
tence cannot  afford  thee.  His  appointments  may 
be  mysterious  and  inexplicable ;  but  HE  will  give 
thee  to  perceive  that  they  are  ordered  in  wisdom. 
'  Clouds  and  darkness '  may  be  '  round  about  Him,' 
but  He  will  give  thee  to  know  and  to  feel  that 


INCONSISTENT    WITH    FEAR.  170 

'righteousness  and  judgment  and  mercy  are  the 
habitation  of  His  throne.' 

Thou  mayest  be  allowed  to  perceive,  in  the  pres- 
ent world,  that  His  darkest  dispensations  are  ordered 
in  kindness  and  love;  and  'what  thou  knowest  not 
now,  thou  shalt  know  hereafter.'  The  clouds  and 
darkness  \\hieh  envelope  the  throne  of  the  ETERNAL 
shall  be  dispelled,  and  '  His  righteousness  shall 
shine  forth  as  the  light,  and  His  judgment  as  the 
noonday.'  If  thy  trials  are  sanctified  to  thee,  and 
made  the  instrument,  through  the  mediation  of  the 
Saviour,  of  procuring  for  thee  l  an  eternal  weight  of 
glory,'  standing  as  on  an  eminence,  thou  wilt  look 
back  on  the  path  of  life  and  adore  the  wisdom  that 
marked  out  thy  course  for  thee,  and  the  mercy  that 
made  it,  in  any  respect,  a  difficult  and  wearisome 
pilgrimage. 

Let  thy  faith  anticipate  this  period.  Borrow 
some  sweets  from  the  store  of  futurity  to  mitigate 
the  bitterness  of  present  grief.  Nay,  look  backward 
now,  whilst  thou  art  yet  a  pilgrim  on  earth,  and 
behold  how  much  cause  there  is  for  gratitude  and 
trust  and  consolation  in  the  past.  Look  around 
thee,  and  see  how  many  blessings  yet  remain,  to 
awaken  the  sentiment  of  thankfulness,  and  pious 
trust  in  GOD.  Listen  to  the  kind  invitation,  '  Call 
upon  ME  in  trouble,  I  will  deliver  thee,  and  thou 
shalt  glorify  me;'  and  adopt,  with  the  full  consent 
of  thy  mind,  the  devout,  roiiliding  language  of  the 
Psalmist,  *  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  O  my  soul? 
Why  art  thou  disquieted  within  me?  Hope  in 


176 


A  SENSE  OF  THE  PRESENCE  OF  GOD 


GOD,  for  I  shall  yet  praise  HIM  for  the  help  of  His 
countenance.' 

To  adopt  the  language  of  devout  and  grateful 
trust  in  GOD,  is  the  duty,  and  may  be  the  privilege, 
of  us  all.  In  prosperity,  it  is  this  alone  that  can 
render  prosperity  a  blessing.  In  adversity,  this 
only  can  take  the  edge  from  affliction,  and  convert 
a  seeming  evil  into  a  real  good. 

No  period  of  life,  no  favorable  combination  of 
circumstances  in  our  lot,  can  exempt  us  from  ca- 
lamity. We-  are  '  born  to  trouble.'  It  is  an  inher- 
itance sad  indeed,  but  one  which  we  cannot  refuse. 
We  may  be  happy  in  our  families ;  prosperous  in 
our  affairs ;  possessed  of  health ;  surrounded  by 
friends ;  but  all  will  not  avail  to  avert  the  stroke. 
'  Our  mountain '  never  '  standeth  so  strong  that 
it  cannot  be  moved.' 

The  sources  of  our  happiness  will  be  the  sources 
of  our  misery.  If  the  ties  are  numerous  that  have 
entwined  themselves  about  the  heart,  the  more  cer- 
tain and  the  more  frequent  the  suffering.  If  they 
are  close,  the  more  profusely  the  heart  will  bleed 
when  they  are  torn  away. 

Calamity  may  come  upon  us  suddenly.  A  few 
days, —  nay,  even  a  moment,  —  may  reverse  our 
prospects  of  worldly  good. 

When  the  earthly  staff  of  our  comfort  fails  us,  if 
we  have  no  firmer  stay,  we  must  sink.  When  our 
fairest  earthly  prospects  are  reversed,  if  we  have  no 
brighter  prospects,  our  condition  must  be  dark  and 
gloomy  indeed. 


INCONSISTENT    WITH    FEAR.  177 

What  comfort, —  I  beseech  you, — is  there  for 
him  who  has  no  hope  in  GOD  ?  None,  on  earth  or 
in  h< 'liven.  H<>  is  drawing  from  a  broken  cistern. 
He  is  building  on  an  unstable  foundation.  4  His 
hope  is  as  a  spider's  web.'  It  will  be  swept  away. 


178 


SERMON    XXVII. 


THEY  ARfc  NOT  ALONE  WHO  FEEL  ASSURED  THAT  THE 
FATHER  IS  WITH  THEM. 

John  xvi.  33.  —  i  AM  NOT  ALONE,  BECAUSE  THE  FATHER  is  WITH  ME. 

OUR  Saviour  spake  these  words  in  reference  to 
one  of  the  most  affecting  incidents  of  his  life. 

They  were  addressed  to  his  disciples  in  his  last 
interview  with  them  before  his  crucifixion. 

In  adverting  to  the  events  that  were  about  to  take 
place,  he  alludes,  —  but  in  a  manner  far  from  re- 
proachful,—  to  their  desertion  of  him,  and  to  his 
being  left  alone,  unsupported  and  uncheered  by  the 
presence  of  his  friends,  in  the  midst  of  his  enemies. 
4  Behold  the  hour  cometh,  yea,xand  now  is,  when  all' 
ye  shall  be  scattered  abroad,  and  shall  leave  me 
alone.  And  yet,'  he  adds,  '  I  am  not  alone,  because 
the  Father  is  with  me.' 

His  prediction,  in  a  few  hours,  was  verified.  They 
were  '  scattered  every  one  to  his  own,'  but  the 
presence  of  his  Father,  and  the  strength  that  was 
vouchsafed  to  him,  enabled  him  to  meet  his  enemies 
unappalled ;  and,  in  the  hall  of  Pilate,  and  on  the 


THEY    ARE    NOT    ALONE,    ETC.  179 

cross  at  Calvary,  to  preserve  a  deportment  serene 
and  dignified. 

In  the  garden  of  Gethsemane  so  bitter  were  the 
ingredients  which  were  mingled  in  his  cup  of  suf- 
fering, that  reluctant  nature  was  for  a  moment 
unwilling  to  drink  it.  But  there  was  a  visible 
interposition  of  GOD  in  his  support.  *  There  ap- 
peared an  angel  to  him  strengthening  him,'  and  he 
could  say,  '  Nevertheless,  not  as  I  will,  but  as  Thou 
wilt/ 

Amidst  the  horrors  and  pangs  of  crucifixion,  the 
mournful  complaint  was  forced  from  him,  — '  My 
GOD  !  my  GOD  !  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me  ? ' 
but  again  he  reposes  himself,  in  that  awful  hour,  on 
the  protection  of  his  FATHER,'  and  into  His  hands 
commits  his  departing  spirit. 

He  had  sojourned  forty  days  in  the  wilderness. 
He  had  spent  whole  nights  in  the  desert  mountain. 
He  had  wandered  about  from  place  to  place,  not 
having  where  to  lay  his  head.  Yet,  in  the  deepest 
solitude,  and  amidst  the  severest  privations,  his 
nearest  and  best  Friend  was  ever  at  hand,  to  arm 
him  against  the  assaults  of  the  tempter,  to  sustain 
him  under  the  pressure  of  want  and  suffering,  and 
to  aid  him  in  fulfilling  the  work  of  mercy  which 
had  been  given  Mm  to  do. 

And  so  at  last,  when,  to  use  the  language  of  the 
Psalniisi,  his  friends  stood  aloof  from  his  sore,  and 
his  kinsmen  afar  off;  when  he  yielded  his  life 
an  offering  for  sin,  the  same  FRIEND  was  near  to 
supply  the  place  of  earthly  comforters ;  to  accept 


180  THEY    ARE    NOT    ALONE, 

his  voluntary  sacrifice,  and  to  receive  the  pure  and 
spotless  spirit  to  the  place  from  which  it  had  de- 
scended. 

There  was  a  peculiar  sense  in  which  the  presence 
of  GOD  was  with  Jesus  Christ. 

He  was  intimately  and  inconceivably  united  to 
the  FATHER  ;  and  of  him  it  was  said,  by  a  voice 
from  heaven,  in  a  sense  in  which  it  could  be  said 
of  no  human  being,  '  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in 
whom  I  am  well  pleased.' 

We  need  go  no  farther ;  I  am  ready  to  acknowl- 
edge that  my  anxious  inquiries  can  carry  me  no 
farther. 

The  nature  of  the  connection  between  the  FA- 
THER and  the  SON  it  has  not  pleased  GOD  to  reveal. 
Nor  perhaps  could  it  be  revealed  to  our  imperfect 
conceptions.  We  must  have  other  powers  than  we 
now  have  to  understand  it.  It  is  useless  and  un- 
profitable,—  to  say  the  least,  —  to  contend  where 
there  is  so  little  knowledge.  Jesus  Christ  himself 
has  told  us  that  he  is  '  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the 
life,  and  that  no  one  cometh  to  the  FATHER  but  by 
him.' 

But  if  there  is  a  peculiar  sense  in  which  the  pres- 
ence of  GOD  was  with  Jesus  Christ,  there  is  a  sense, 
too,  in  which  the  presence  of  GOD  may  be  with  us, 
frail  children  of  mortality. 

I  do  not  refer  to  that  Omniscience  which  per- 
vades the  universe,  which,  surrounds  and  pervades 
all  that  exists.  In  this  sense  He  is  present  with 
us  as  he  was  with  Jesus,  in  every  hour  and  in  every 


WHO    HAVE    THE    FATHER    WITH    THEM.  181 

place,  with  the  wicked,  as  well  as  with  the  good ; 
with  those  who  are  the  objects  of  His  displeasure, 
as  well  as  those  who  are  the  objects  of  his  com- 
placency and  love. 

Yet  there  is  still  another  sense  in  which  GOD  is 
with  us ;  the  same  in  nature,  though  not  in  degree, 
in  which  His  presence  was  with  the  blessed  Sa- 
viour. 

The  wicked  man  who,  in  the  darkness  of  the 
night,  is  pursuing  his  unholy  purpose,  may  indeed 
say  '  Thou  GOD  seest  me  ; '  but  he  cannot  say  with 
the  tenderness  and  affection  of  the  pious,  who,  in 
the  secrecy  of  devout  retirement,  is  communing 
with  GOD,  '  I  am  not  alone,  because  the  FATHER 
is  with  me/ 

He  cannot  feel  as  the  pious  feels,  when  he  is 
deserted  and  bereft,  that,  in  his  most  solitary  state, 
a  parental  arm,  stronger  than  the  strongest,  is  ex- 
tended for  his  support ;  and  the  wing  of  Almighty 
Love  spread  out  for  his  protection. 

When  the  tempest  beats  upon  his  head,  or  the 
1  waters  pass  into  his  soul/  he  cannot  say  '  Lead  me  to 
the  Rock  that  is  higher  than  I.'  'In  the  secret  of  his 
pavilion  he  will  hide  me  till  the  tempest  be  overpast.' 
No !  He  would  gladly  *  go  out  from  the  presence  of 
the  Lord,'  and  hide  himself  from  the  notice  of  that 
Eye  from  whose  penetrating  glance  none  can  escape, 
and  under  whose  protection  the  righteous  repose 
themselves  with  filial  confidence.  And  here  is  the 
diilerence.  None  are  alone  ;  but  the  pious  only  can 
rejoice  in  the  presence  of  GOD.  And  they  do  re- 

VOL.  II.  16 


182  THEY    ARE    NOT    ALONE 


joice  in  it.  It  is  the  source  of  their  highest  joy.  In 
prosperity  they  rejoice  in  it,  for  they  remember  that 
the  Author  of  their  prosperity  is  the  witness  of  their 
grateful  improvement  of  it. 

In  adversity  they  rejoice  in  it,  for  it  sustains  and 
consoles  them.  HE  who  has  wounded -is  present 
to  heal  them,  and  to  pour  tfee  balm  of  consolation 
into  their  wounded  spirits. 

In  seasons  of  doubt  and  perplexity  they  rejoice 
in  it,  for  it  enlightens  and  guides  them. 

In  sickness  they  rejoice  in  it,  for  it  t  makes  all 
their  bed  in  their  sickness.*  In  death  they  rejoice 
in  it,  for  it  fortifies  their  minds.  It  sheds  a  holy 
peace  abroad  in  their  hearts,  and  inspires  a  blessed 
hope  full  of  immortality ;  and,  '  though  they  walk 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  they  fear 
no  evil.' 

My  hearers,  have  we  imbibed  so  much  of  the 
spirit  of  our  blessed  Saviour,  that,  in  the  most  soli- 
tary state,  we  can  say  with  him  — 1 1  am  not  alone, 
because  the  Father  is  with  me  ? ' 

Is  this  our  joy  in  prosperity,  our  support  in  ad- 
versity ;  and  will  this  minister  peace  and  consola- 
tion to  our  spirits  when  they  are  taking  their  flight 
into  eternity?  If  it  be  not  so,  hapless  indeed  is 
our  condition. 

If  it  be  so,  we  have  enough.  We  have  all  and 
abound.  In  poverty  we  are  rich.  In  sickness  we 
have  health.  In  death  we  live. 

Our  friends  may  die,  but  our  best   FRIEND  re- 


WHO    HAVE    Till:     I    \THi;U    WITH    THEM.  183 

mains  to  us.  The  time  of  our  departure  may  come, 
but  we  shall  be  borne  up  *  amidst  the  swellings  of 
Jordan ; '  and  the  presence  of  GOD,  which  has  been 
the  source  of  our  joy  through  the  brief  and  fleeting 
moments  of  our  earthly  pilgrimage,  will  be  the 
source  of  our  joy  through  the  endless  ages  of  eter- 
nity. 


184 


SERMON  XXVIII. 


THE   FEAE  OF   DEATH. 

Heb.  ii.  5.  —  WHO,  THROUGH  FEAR  OF  DEATH,  WERE  ALL  THEIR  LIFE- 
TIME SUBJECTED  TO  BONDAGE. 

FEW,  probably,  if  any,  have  passed  through  life 
wholly  unsubjected  to  the  bondage  of  the  fear  of 
death. 

It  requires  a  powerful  struggle  to  break  this  thral- 
dom. It  is  the  noblest  effort  of  the  mind,  with  the 
full  sense  of  death,  and  with  just  conceptions  of 
death,  to  overcome  this  fear. 

It  is  an  effort  which,  I  hesitate  not  to  say,  the 
pious  only  can  make  with  success. 

Many,  indeed,  who  were  not  pious  have  met 
death  apparently  unmoved  by  fear.  But  were  they 
fully  aware  of  its  approach?  Had  they  a  just  sense 
of  its  consequences  ?  Was  there  no  latent  hope  of 
escape  ? 

I  am  not  yet  convinced  that  any  thing  but'  piety 
will  inspire  composure  and  tranquillity  when  death 
is  viewed  as  unavoidable,  and  as  an  introduction  to 
the  righteous  tribunal  of  GOD. 


THE    FEAR    OF    DEATH.  185 

There  are  several  causes  of  the  fear  of  death.     I 
shall  mention  a  few  of  them. 

1.  The  first  is  inherent  in  our  nature.    It  is  a  prin- 
ciple implanted  by  our  CREATOR  as  the  safeguard 
of  life;  an  instinct,  which   prompts  to  self-preser- 
vation before  the  slow  process  of  reason  could  de- 
termine the  necessity,  or  direct  to  the  means.     We 
have  an  instinctive  dread  of  death,  and  shrink  from 
it,  —  involuntarily,  but  earnestly. 

2.  The  second  cause  is  our  attachment  to  the 
world  in  which  we   dwell ;   to  the  scenes  and  the 
objects, — not  to  say  the  employments  and  the  pleas- 
ures,—  which  render  life  desirable.     We  are  em- 
barked on  an  ocean  with  all  that  is  dear  and  valu- 
able to  us.     Death  is  the  shipwreck,  and  the  wreck 
is  total. 

3.  The  third  is  the   uncertainty  concerning  the 
state  of  the  departed;   the  veil  that  conceals   fu- 
turity, and,  to  us,  shrouds  it  in  darkness ;  perhaps 
the  certainty,  if  called  as  we  now  are  into  eternity, 
of  a  fearful  retribution. 

There  is,  too,  I  may  add,  in  some,  a  constitu- 
tional tendency  to  anxiety  and  solicitude,  which 
neither  reason  nor  religion  can  always  wholly  over- 
come. It  is  a  weakness  of  their  nature,  but  is  not  a 
proof  that  they  are  not  safe.  Their  sun  may  set  in 
a  cloud,  and  rise  in  glory. 

Such  are  the  causes,  —  at  least  some  of  the  prin- 
cipal ones,  —  of  the  fear  of  death. 

And  what  are  the  remedies? 
16* 


186  THE    FEAR    OF    DEATH. 

If,  as  I  have  said,  the  natural  dread  of  death  is 
the  safeguard  of  life,  entirely  to  suppress  it  were 
not  desirable,  even  if  it  be  possible. 

Life  is  given  for  the  accomplishment  of  valuable 
ends.  It  is  known  to  HIM  who  gave  it,  how  long 
it  is  fitting  and  best  it  should  last ;  and  to  be  reck- 
less of  life  is  as  little  the  part  of  wisdom  as  of  piety. 
But  the  natural  dread  of  death  may  be  moderated 
by  the  frequent  contemplation  of  death ;  at  least 
in  such  points  of  view  as  reason  and  religion  pre- 
sent it  to  us ;  by  considering  it  as  a  means  to  an 
important  end;  as  a  translation  from  one  state  of 
being  to  another;  and,  to  the  righteous,  as  a  trans- 
lation to  a  state  inconceivably  better  and  happier 
than  the  present. 

By  such  contemplation,  the  circumstances  which 
attend  the  '  article  of  death '  become  disarmed  of 
their  terrors.  When  a  great  good  is  to  be  obtained, 
the  evils  we  must  encounter  in  acquiring  it  lose 
their  importance. 

The  remedy  for  the  dread  of  losing  the  world, 
and  the  objects  of  the  world,  is  to  dwell  on  the 
recollection  of  those  fairer  scenes  and  better  objects 
which  faith,  while  on  earth,  can  descry,  and  which 
piety  will  realize  and  enjoy  in  heaven. 

Why  should  we  dread  to  part  with  a  lesser  for  a 
greater  good?  Why  should  we  cling  so  closely, 
so  fondly,  to  what  is  fading,  uncertain,  unsatisfy- 
ing; when  we  can  exchange  them  for  what  is  last- 
ing, sure,  and  all-sufficient? 

Shall  we  dread  death,  if  to  die  is  to  live  forever  ? 


run    FI:AK    or    DKATH. 


1-7 


Shall  we  dread  TO  part  from  those  whom  we  have 
loved  below,  when  we  may  meet  with  worthier  ob- 
"f  atlection  above,  and  are  assured  that  those 
who  were  most  worthy  of  our  affection  here,  will 
be  the  companions  and  sharers  of  our  felicity  there ? 

But  there  is  still  another  cause  of  the  fear  of 
death;  and  for  this,  too,  we  must  find  a  remedy. 
The  uncertainty  respecting  futurity,  or  perhaps  the 
certainty,  that  death  to  us  will  be  the  instrument  of 
misery  and  ruin. 

I  grant  that  there  is  much  darkness  and  uncer- 
tainty  respecting  the  state  of  the  departed. 

There  is  much  to  lead  us  to  believe,  I  think,  in 
the  immediate  transition  of  the  soul  to^a  state  of 
consciousness  after  death.  There  is  manifestly  a 
dillerence  between  the  soul  and  the  body ;  and  we 
do  often  find  that  when  the  body  is  wasted,  and 
sinking  into  death,  the  spirit  is  animated  and  vigor- 
cu-.  and  aspiring  after  life.  The  Scriptures,  too, 
tar  as  they  give  us  information,  st re n^then  this 
belief.  The  declaration  of  our  Saviour  to  the  thief 
on  the  cross,  and  the  parable  of  the  rich  man  who 
fan -d  sumptuously,  and  Lazarus  who  was  '  laid  at 
his  gate  full  of  sores/  are  to  this  point.  And  to 
these,  among  others,  might  be  added  the  allusions 
to  Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob,  as  already  glori- 
fied ;  the  declaration  of  Paul  that  for  him  to  depart 
was  to  be  with  Christ,  and  the  appearance  of  Moses 
and  Elias  on  the  mount  of  transfiguration. 

Yet  there  is  uncertainty  respecting  the  mode  of 
existence.  '  No  traveller  has  returned  from  that 
bourne  to  tell  us  what  it  is.' 


188 


THE    FEAR    OF    DEATH 


The  most  important  information,  however,  has 
been  given  us.  We  are  told  that  we  shall  live ;  and 
that  if  our  life  on  earth  has  been  holy,  our  life  in 
heaven  will  be  happy. 

More  than  this,  we  need  not  know.  More  than 
this,  we  could  not  understand.  Our  powers  are 
finite,  and  infinite  objects  are  too  vast  for  our  com- 
prehension. 

As  sure  as  GOD  exists,  who  c  cannot  He,'  there  is 
a  heaven  where  piety  will  find  its  reward ;  and  a 
hell  where  sin  will  meet  its  punishment ;  and  this  is 
enough  for  us  to  know. 

If  this  knowledge  has  its  proper  influence  upon 
us  ;  if  it  leads  us  to  repentance ;  the  last  cause  of 
the  fear  of  death  I  have  mentioned  will  no  longer 
exist,  —  the  certainty  that  death  will  be  the  instru- 
ment of  misery. 

It  is  preparation  for  death  alone,  that  can  disarm 
death  of  its  sting.  And  will  any  of  you  neglect 
this  preparation,  and  remain  in  bondage  und^r  the 
fear  of  death,  and  feel  its  sting,  and  taste  its  bitter- 
ness unallayed,  and  reap  its  fearful  consequences  ? 

O,  be  not  so  unwise !  Christ  has  taken  the  sting 
from  death,  and  they  who  live  in  Christ,  and  die  in 
Christ,  shall  not  feel  its  power. 

To  them  death  is  conquered,  despoiled,  destroyed. 
The  clouds  that  hung  over  its  valley  are  scattered. 
The  veil  is  lifted,  to  the  eye  of  faith  the  throne  of 
GOD  and  of  the  Lamb,  is  visible ;  and  the  bed  of 
infirmity  and  death  becomes  the  field  of  triumph. 
<  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting !  O  grave  where  is 


THE     FEAR    OF    DEATH. 

thy  victory!'  *  Thanks  be  to  GOD  who  giveth  us 
the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ/ 

Fear  not,  then,  pious  believer!  Thou  hast  ob- 
tained thy  freedom  from  the  dominion  of  sin,  and 
thou  hast  no  reason  to  he  in  bondage  to  the  fear  of 
death.  By  the  grace  of  GOD,  thou  hast  overcome 
the  enemy  to  thy  salvation  ;  and  thou  hast  in  truth 
overcome  the  last  enemy.  It  may  destroy  thy  body, 
but  it  cannot  harm  thy  soul. 

Harm  thy  soul !  It  comes  to  bless  it.  It  comes 
to  release  it  from  the  bondage  of  corruption.  It 
comes  to  take  it  from  its  prison-house  where  it  is 
fettered  and  confined,  and  to  introduce  it  to  light 
and  liberty,  where  it  may  flow  out  in  unrestrained 
ailection  towards  the  Source  of  its  felicity,  enjoy  the 
full  fruition  of  its  hopes,  and  taste  of  bliss  unalloyed, 
unending. 

Fear  not,  then,  pious  believer!  Thou  hast  little 
e,  and  thou  hast  much  to  gain.  Thou  art 
tossed  on  a  stormy  ocean  ;  death  shall  convey  thee 
to  a  still  and  peaceful  shore. 

The  clouds  of  doubt,  and  distrust,  and  fearful 
apprehension,  often  hang  over  thee,  and  hide  from 
thee  the  light  of  GOD'S  countenance ;  and  intercept 
the  bright  rays  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  The 
tempest  of  affliction  beats  upon  thy  head.  The 
shades  of  night  will  descend  upon  thee.  But  fear 
thou  not!  Death  comes  to  dissipate  the  clouds  of 
doubt,  and  distrust,  and  fearful  apprehension;  to 
still  the  tempest  of  affliction;  to  chase  away  the 
shades  of  night;  to  restore  to  thee,  forever,  the 


190  THE    FEAR    OF    DEATH. 

light  of  GOD'S  countenance,  and  the  bright  rays  of 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness. 

*  And  I  saw  no  temple  therein,'  said  the  author 
of  the  Apocalypse,  'for  the  LORD  GOD  ALMIGHTY 
and  the  Lamb  are  the  temple  of  it.  And  the  city 
had  no  need  of  the  sun  or  the  moon  to  shine  in  it, 
for  the  glory  of  GOD  did  lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb 
is  the  light  thereof.  And  the  nations  of  them  which 
are  saved  shall  walk  in  the  light  of  it ;  and  the 
gates  of  it  shall  no  more  be  shut  by  day;  and  there 
shall  be  no  night  there.' 

Blessed  prospect !  To  be  freed  from  doubt,  and 
to  enjoy  full,  undoubting  certainty.  To  be  freed 
from  error,  and  to  be  possessed  of  perfect,  unadul- 
terated truth.  To  be  freed  from  sorrow,  and  to  par- 
take of  full,  unmingled  joy.  To  be  freed  from  sin, 
and  to  possess  undeviating  rectitude.  To  be  freed 
from  the  fear  and  the  darkness  of  death,  and  to  be 
introduced  to  the  undisturbed  tranquillity,  and  un- 
veiled light  of  life. 

Blessed  prospect !  beyond  the  reach  of  mortal 
ken,  or  the  grasp  of  mortal  mind !  Do  not  our  souls 
desire  it,  and  will  they  not  aspire  after  it,  and  will 
they  not  seek  it  with  intense  and  unremitting  dili- 
gence ? 

What  is  there  on  earth  to  compare  with  the  feli- 
city and  glory  of  heaven  ?  —  Poor,  vain  world !  Thy 
purest  pleasures  are  mingled.  Thy  brightest  glories 
are  clouded.  Thy  highest  honors  are  fading.  Thy 
largest  rewards  are  poor  and  scanty.  Poor  vain  world ! 
What  hast  thou  to  compare  with  the  pleasures  that 


THE    FEAR    OF    DEATH.  191 

flow  at  the  right  hand  of  GOD,  —  the  glories  that 
surround  His  throne? 

What  hast  thou  to  compare  with  the  crown  of 
righteousness;  or  what  reward  canst  thou  bestow 
that  can  equal  the  rewards  of  a  blessed  eternity  ? 

Ah  wretched  sinner !  Wilt  thou,  for  the  glittering 
baubles,  the  unsubstantial  enjoyments,  the  poor 
rewards  of  earth,  forfeit  the  joys,  and  the  honors, 
and  the  glories  of  heaven  ?  — Wilt  thou  cast  away 
thy  hopes,  and  hug  thy  fetters,  and  remain  in 
wretched  bondage  forever  ? 


192 


SERMON   XXIX. 


THERE  IS  NO  DEATH,  NOR  SORROW,  NOR  PAIN  IN 
HEAVEN. 

Revelations  xxi.  4.  —  THERE  is  NO  MORE   DEATH,  NEITHER  SORROW 

.      NOR   CRYING,   FOR   THE   FORMER   THINGS   HAVE    PASSED    AWAY. 

THE  greater  part  of  the  Apocalypse  of  St.  John 
is  involved  in  deep  and  impenetrable  obscurity.  It 
is  a  sealed  book ;  and  no  one  has  yet  been  allowed 
to  open  the  seal,  and  disclose  the  contents.* 

Many  commentators,  indeed,  have  attempted  it, 
but  they  have  rather  ;  darkened  counsel  by  words 
without  wisdom,'  than  elucidated  what  it  appears 
to  be  the  will  of  Providence,  —  as  in  regard  to  most 
of  the  prophetic  books,  —  should  be  understood 
only  in  the  fulfilment. 

But,  whatever  darkness  may  rest  on  the  greater 


*In  a  correspondence  which  the  author  had  with  Dr.  Adam 
Clarke,  the  commentator  on  the  Bible,  he  was  happy  to  find  him- 
self corroborated  in  the  opinion  he  had  formed  of  the  obscurity 
of  the  book  of  Revelations.  Dr.  Clarke  declared  himself  utterly 
unable  to  comprehend  it,  and  said  he  should  say  but  little  in  the 
way  of  interpretation.  •  What  was  said,  would  be  said  by  his  son, 
who  would  write  the  commentary  on  that  book.' 


THERE  IS  NO  DEATH,  NOR  SORROW,  ETC.   193 

part  of  the  book  of  the  Revelations,  there  is  a  part 
which  is  written  as  with  a  sunbeam;  and  it  is 
enough  to  render  this  book  of  inestimable  worth 
to  every  feeling  and  pious  mind.  I  allude  to  the 
representation  of  the  state  of  the  blessed. 

It  is  more  than  a  representation,  if  I  may  say  so. 
It  is  a  picture,  complete  and  glowing,  and  animated, 
of  their  employments  and  felicities. 

I  had  nearly  said  it  is  still  more ;  for,  so  vivid,  so 
lifelike,  is  the  description,  we  almost  seem  to  be 
admitted  behind  the  scene;  to  breathe  the  air  of 
heaven ;  to  behold  the  l  elders  around  the  throne ; ' 
and  to  hear  the  acclamations  of  the  redeemed. 

If  the  language  is  sometimes  figurative,  it  is  full 
of  meaning ;  if  we  are  sometimes  told  that  *  there 
is  no  more  sea,'  we  are  reminded  that  agitations 
and  contentions  have  ceased ;  or,  if  it  is  said  that, 
in  the  place  of  the  stormy,  tempestuous  ocean,  there 
is  '  a  sea  of  glass,'  it  is  a  striking  symbol  of  unin- 
terrupted peace  and  tranquillity. 

But  the  language  of  this  book  is  not  always 
figurative.  It  is  sometimes  plain,  direct,  and  ex- 
plicit; coming  home  to  the  nature  and  condition, 
the  necessities  and  hopes  of  man.  Its  import  i-vcry 
understanding  can  comprehend,  and  its  value  every 
heart  can  feel. 

Of  this  nature  is  the  language  of  the  text. 
4  There  is  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow  nor  crying, 
lu'ither  any  more  pain,  for  the  former  things  have 
passed  away.' 

It  would  be  an  insult  to  your  understandings  if  I 

VOL.    II.  17 


194     THERE  IS  NO  DEATH,  NOR  SORROW, 

were  to  attempt  to  prove  to  you  that  man  is  mortal ; 
that '  he  dieth  and  wasteth  away.'  It  is  not  a  truth 
about  which  we  may  reason,  and  receive,  or  reject 
it,  as  the  weight  of  evidence  may  incline  to  the  one 
side  or  the  other.  It  is  a  fact  which  is  presented  to 
the  senses,  and  we  cannot  but  see  and  know  it. 
We  may  turn  away,  but  it  will  meet  us  on  the 
other  side.  We  may  shut  our  eyes,  but  we  shall 
hear  it  in  the  sigh  of  agonized  affection ;  we  shall 
feel  it  in  the  *  aching  void.' 

1  There  is  no  more  death? 

Ye  who,  all  your  life-time,  are  *  subject  to  bondage 
by  reason  of  death ' !  Behold  a  country  where  its 
ravages  are  unknown ;  whence  its  fear  is  removed ; 
and  be  excited  to  secure  an  interest  in  *  Him  who 
has  abolished  death,'  and  delivered  those  who  all 
their  lifetime  were  subject  to  its  bondage. 

'  There  is  no  more  sorrow  nor  crying^  neither  any 
more  pain? 

How  various  and  multiplied  are  the  sources  of 
our  trouble  on  earth  !  As  various  and  multiplied  as 
the  condition  and  circumstances  of  mankind.  There 
is  no  cup  without  mixture.  There  is  no  web  of  life 
into  which  the  threads  of  sorrow  have  not  been 
woven.  '  Man  is  born  to  trouble.'  The  first  sound 
which  he  utters  is  a  cry  of  distress ;  and  the  path 
on  which  he  enters,  and  along  which  he  must  travel, 
is,  amidst  unnumbered  blessings  far  outweighing 
the  evils,  —  *  a  valley  of  tears.'  In  sorrow  he  enters 
life  sorrow  often  wrings  his  heart  in  his  passage 
through  it,  and  sorrow  attends  the  twilight,  and 
closes  the  evening  of  his  days. 


NOR    PAIN    IN    HEAVEN.  195 

Our  body  is  the  seat  of  infirmity  and  sickness. 
Wearisome  days  and  nights  are  appointed  us. 

*  Our  bones  are  chastened  with  pain,  and  the  multi- 
tude of  our  bones  with  strong  pain.' 

The  mind,  too,  must  sustain  its  part  of  the  bur- 
den. Who  has  not  felt  the  pangs  of  regret,  or 
disappointment,  or  remorse  ?  Whose  heart  has  not 
l>lr<l  for  the  distresses  of  others?  There  is  a  prin- 
ciple of  sympathy  in  our  nature.  It  is  the  solace 
and  the  medicine  of  life.  It  doubles  our  joys;  it 
lightens  our  toils ;  it  divides  and  lessens  our  sorrows. 

Yet,  in  this  imperfect  state,  our  kind  affections 
are  the  sources  of  care  and  anxiety.  Our  happiness 
is  closely  interwoven  with  that  of  others,  and  every 
wound  that  pierces  them,  we  feel  in  our  own 
bosom.  Can  we  witness  the  sorrow  which  weighs 
down  the  spirit  of  our  friend,  and  not  bear  our  part 
of  the  burden  ?  Can  we  mark  the  slow,  perhaps,  but 
unremitting  progress  of  a  consuming  disease,  and 
not  be  filled  with  anxiety  and  apprehension?  Can 
we  watch  around  the  bed  of  death  and  behold  the 
conflict  with  the  last  enemy,  even  though  it  be  met 
with  the  composure  of  Christian  resignation  and 
hope,  and  not  feel  ourselves  a  bitterness  little  less 
dreadful  than  the  bitterness  of  death  ? 

Our  text  reveals  to  us  a  country  where  there  is 

*  no  more  pain,  neither  sorrow  nor  crying,'  where 

*  all  tears  are  wiped  from  all  eyes.' 

The  kind  affections  which,  on  earth,  were  the 
sources  of  anxiety  and  distress,  will  there  be  the 
sources  of  unmingled  joy.  There  will  be  room  for 


196   THERE  IS  NO  DEATH,  NOR  SORROW,  ETC. 

sympathy,  but  it  will  be  sympathy  only  with  the 
happy.  We  may  '  rejoice  with  them  who  rejoice,' 
but  to  '  weep  with  them  that  weep '  is  our  duty  and 
our  privilege  only  on  earth. 

How  abundant  is  the  consolation,  my  hearers, 
which  our  subject  brings  to  us  when  sorrowing  for 
the  virtuous  beloved  from  whom  death  hath  divided 
us!  They  shall  die  no  more.  They  shall  suffer 
and  sorrow  no  more. 

Look  up,  by  faith,  Christian  mourner,  to  heaven. 
Enter,  as  thou  art  permitted  thus  to  enter,  the 
abodes  of  the  blessed.  Behold  their  felicity.  Lis- 
ten to  the  sounds  that  strike  thine  ear.  They  are 
the  notes  of  joy;  the  accents  of  praise.  'Blessing 
and  glory  and  praise  to  Him  that  sitteth  on  the 
throne,  and  to  the  Lamb,  who  hath  redeemed  us  to 
GOD,  by  his  blood,  out  of  every  nation,  and  kindred, 
and  people,  and  tongue.' 

And  wouldst  thou  call  them  back  to  partake 
again  of  thy  infirmities ;  to  share  in  thy  griefs ;  to 
be  exposed  again  to  the  wants  and  sorrows  of  hu- 
manity; to  struggle  with  the  temptations  of  an 
evil  world ;  to  taste  again  the  '  bitterness  of  death '  ? 

No  !  Let  thy  faith  console  thee.  Let  it  animate 
thee.  Let  it  excite  thee  to  trace  the  footsteps  of 
the  pious  departed.  Whilst  it  carries  thee  up  to 
contemplate  their  felicity,  let  it  excite  thee  to  aspire 
after  it ;  to  strive  for  it ;  and,  by  the  grace  of  GOD, 
to  attain  it ! 


J97 


SERMON    XXX. 


THE    RESURRECTION    OF    CHRIST. 

[Preached  on  Easter  Sunday.] 

1  Corinthians,  xv.  23.  —  CHRIST  THE  FIKST  FRUITS  ;  AFTERWARDS 

THEY   THAT  ARE   CHRIST'S   AT   UIS   COMING. 

MANY  of  our  fellow  Christians,  the  past  week, 
have  set  apart  a  day  for  the  commemoration  of  the 
death  of  Jesus.  They  have  turned  back  the  eye 
of  tln-ir  faith  to  the  awful  scene  of  his  sufferings. 
They  have  accompanied  him  from  his  sorrows  and 
au'onirs  in  the  garden,  through  the  variety  of  dis- 
grace and  pain,  till  *  he  bowed  his  head,  and  gave 
up  the  ghost.'  They  have  seen  him  laid  in  the 
tomb ;  and  the  *  stone  rolled  to  the  door  of  the  se- 
pulchre.1 

To-day  the  scene  is  changed.  They  enter  their 
churches  with  the  voice  of  gladness.  They  have 
seen  the  stone  rolled  away  from  the  door  of 
the  sepulchre.  The  tomb  is  empty.  He  whom 
they  beheld  the  captive  of  death  has  burst  his  fet- 
ters, and  come  forth  triumphant.  They  commemo- 
rate on  this  day  his  resurrection  from  the  dead. 

It  is  not  the  rule  of  our  church,  —  as  of  theirs,  — 
to  celebrate  the  festival  of  Easter;  but  we  are  glad 
17* 


198  THE    RESURRECTION    OF    CHRIST. 

of  every  opportunity  to  sound  a  note  in  unison 
with  our  Christian  brethren.  We  are  accustomed 
on  the  first  Sabbath  of  the  month  to  commemorate 
the  sufferings  and  death  of  our  Master,  and  on  the 
first  day  of  every  week  we  assemble,  as  they  do,  in 
honor  of  his  resurrection.  But  the  resurrection  of 
Christ  is  the  keystone  of  our  faith,  and  the  anchor 
of  our  hope,  as  well  of  theirs,  and  we  need  never 
hesitate  to  manifest,  on  this  theme,  our  sympathy 
with  them. 

To  us,  as  well  as  to  them,  it  is  indeed  a  joyful 
theme.  The  resurrection  of  Christ  is  the  confir- 
mation of  his  doctrine ;  the  demonstration  of  his 
mission  from  GOD.  To  this  he  appealed  as  such, 
and  his  predictions  were  fulfilled. 

Our  faith  is  not  a  vain  and  airy  fabric  of  the  im- 
agination. It  is  erected  on  a  firm  and  solid  basis  ; 
for  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  on  which  it  is  built, 
is  itself  supported  by  incontrovertible  testimony.  It 
is  supported  by  the  testimony  of  those  who  have 
all  the  characteristics  of  credible  witnesses; — by 
the  testimony  of  friends  who  could  not  be  deceived, 
and  who  had  nothing  to  gain,  but  every  thing  to 
lose,  by  attempting  to  deceive  others ;  —  by  the  tes- 
timony of  enemies,  who,  with  the  utmost  power  in 
their  hands,  and  the  utmost  malice  in  their  hearts, 
were  unable  to  allege  any  thing  probable  against  its 
truth. 

I  may  add,  with  deep  reverence,  by  the  testimony 
of  GOD,  who  accompanied  the  preaching  of  it  with 
'  signs  and  wonders,'  and  thus  procured  its  triumph 


THE    RESURRECTION    OF    CHRIST.  199 

and  advancement.  It  is  supported  by  its  effects  on 
the  apostles  themselves,  who,  before  this  event,  with 
a  weak  and  tremulous  faith,  forsook  their  Master, 
and  after  this  event,  asserted  their  belief,  and  their 
attachment  to  him,  with  undaunted  resolution. 
In  short,  its  truth  is  supported  by  a  weight  of 
evidence  which  is  sufficient,  one  would  think,  to 
force  conviction  on  every  candid  mind. 

We  may  rejoice  with  our  fellow  Christians  of  every 
name  in  an  event  which  certifies  the  truth  of  our 
common  religion ;  of  all  that  it  teaches  concerning 
GOD  and  Christ ;  concerning  all  that  has  been  done 
and  suffered  for  the  deliverance  and  salvation  of 
sinful  man.  We  may  rejoice ;  —  for,  if  we  have  a 
true  faith,  —  the  faith  of  the  heart,  we  may  have 
4  peace  with  GOD  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.' 

Nor  is  this  all.  We  may  rejoice  with  our  fellow 
Christians  in  an  event  which  is  a  pledge  that  we, 
too,  shall  rise  again.  *  If  Christ  be  risen,  how  say 
some  among  you,'  asks  the  apostle,  '  that  there  is 
no  resurrection  from  the  dead?'  Our  future  resus- 
citation is  inseparably  connected  with  the  resuscita- 
tion of  Jesus.  As  he  rose  from  the  dead,  we  shall 
rise.  If  we  are  his  followers,  certainly.  If  we  are 
not  his  followers,  perhaps  as  certainly.  The  text, 
indeed,  and  many  other  passages,  appear  to  con  fun1 
the  resurrection  to  those  who  die  in  Christ  But  in 
the  passage  before  us,  —  and  the  same  may  proba- 
bly be  said  of  all  the  others,  —  this  was  all  that 
the  occasion  and  his  argument  required.  It  is  his 
purpose  to  support  the  faith  of  the  Christians  to 


200 


THE    RESURRECTION    OF    CHRIST. 


whom  he  wrote  under  the  discouragements  and  per- 
secutions to  which  their  profession  exposed  them ; 
that  they  might  i  be  steadfast,  immovable,  always 
abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord.'  Now,  the 
proper  argument  to  produce  this  effect  was  such  as 
convinced  them  that  their  patience  and  resolution 
should  be  rewarded ;  that  their  labor  should  '  not  be 
in  vain  in  the  Lord.' 

But  that  the  resurrection  shall  be  general,  we 
seem  to  have  abundant  assurance  in  other  parts  of 
Scripture.  <  All  that  are  in  their  graves,'  says  the 
Saviour  himself,  i  shall  hear  his  voice  and  come 
forth ;  they  that  have  done  good,  to  the  resurrec- 
tion of  life,  and  they  that  have  done  evil,  to  the 
resurrection  of  condemnation.'  And  in  this  very 
chapter,  —  to  mention  no  more,  —  St.  Paul  infers  a 
general  resurrection  of  Christians  from  the  resurrec- 
tion of  Christ.  'As  in  Adam  all  died,'  —  the  just 
and  unjust,  — '  so  in  Christ  shah1  all  be  made  alive.' 

i  In  Adam  all  died.'  His  mortal  nature  descended 
to  his  children.  From  them  it  has  descended  to  us. 
From  us  it  will  descend  to  the  latest  generation. 
i  But  in  Christ  all  shall  be  made  alive.' 

If  Christ  had  not  risen,  and  it  had  not  pleased 
GOD,  in  His  mercy,  to  provide  another  ransom,  the 
dominion  of  the  grave  would  have  been  eternal. 
Nothing  would  have  come  to  disturb  its  sleeping 
tenants ;  nothing  to  dispel  the  shadows  of  the  long, 
long  night  which  enveloped  them.  When  the  in- 
exorable doors  closed  upon  them,  it  would  be  for- 
ever. When  they  had  once  entered  that  prison-house, 


THE    RESURRECTION    OF    CHRIST.  201 

there  would  be  no  escape.  They  would  lie  down 
to  rise  no  more. 

The  eyes  which  had  once  been  cheered  by  the  light 
of  day,  and  had  gazed  with  rapture  on  the  beauties 
of  nature,  would  be  closed  to  open  no  more.  The 
ears  which  had  been  soothed  and  gladdened  by  the 
voice  of  friendship  and  affection,  would  be  shut  to 
open  no  more. 

The  winter  of  the  year  might  pass  away,  as  it  has 
now  passed ;  the  spring  might  succeed  it  to  clothe 
the  earth  with  verdure,  and  cause  it  anew  to  bring 
forth  and  bud;  but  an  endless  winter  would  reign 
in  the  dark  domains  of  death.  No  spring  would 
come,  with  its  genial  warmth  and  resuscitating  in- 
fluence, to  revive  what  had  been  buried  there.  '  There 
might  be  hope  of  a  tree,  if  it  were  cut  down,  that 
it  would  sprout  again,  and  that  the  tender  branch 
thereof  would  not  cease.'  l  Though  the  root  there- 
of wax  old  in  the  earth,  and  the  stock  thereof  die 
in  the  ground,  yet,  through  the  scent  of  water,  it 
might  bud,  and  bring  forth  boughs  like  a  plant.' 
*  But  man  would  lie  down,  and  rise  not,'  even  when 
4  the  heavens  were  no  more.'  *  No,  he  would  not 
awake,  nor  be  raised  out  of  his  sleep.'  Generation 
after  generation  might  come  forward  and  act  its  part 
on  the  stage  of  life;  but  when  the  scene  was  shift- 
ed, they  would  disappear  forever. 

Such  would  have  been  the  triumph  of  death,  if 
Jesus  had  not  risen  from  the  grave.  '  But  Jesus  has 
risen,  and  become  the  first  fruits  of  them  that  slept.' 
The  trump  of  GOD  shall  sound,  and  the  fetters  of 


202  THE    RESURRECTION    OF    CHRIST. 

the  grave  shall  be  rent  asunder.  The  repose  of 
the  tomb  shall  be  disturbed.  '  They  that  sleep  in 
the  dust  of  the  earth  shall  awake.'  At  the  voice  of 
the  archangel,  thousands,  and  tens  of  thousands, 
shall  rise  to  meet  their  Judge. 

Hearer !  Art  thou  prepared  for  this  scene  ?  —  It 
may  open  upon  thee  before  thou  art  aware.  Thou 
hast  but  a  slender  hold  on  life.  Thy  age  is  no  se- 
curity. Thy  health  is  no  security.  The  remedies 
for  disease  are  not  infallible.  The  milder  skies  of 
a  more  southern  clime  may  not  revive  thy  drooping 
strength.  The  time  is  approaching, — it  may  be 
to-morrow  or  to-day,  —  when  thou  must  take  thy 
place  with  those  who  are  laid  in  the  grave.  Art 
thou  prepared  for  this  event  ?  —  Hast  thou  secured 
an  interest  in  Him  who  hath  vanquished  death  ?  If 
Christ  is  the  '  first  fruits/  shalt  thou  rise  afterwards 
as  one  '  that  is  Christ's,  at  his  coming  ? '  —  Hearer ! 
thou  hast  a  deeper  interest  in  this  than  I  can  de- 
scribe to  thee.  Yes,  than  I  could  describe  to  thee, 
were  I  to  speak  with  any  other  tongue  than  that  of 
inspiration.  Art  thou  living  regardless  of  death  and 
the  resurrection,  and  the  judgment  that  will  fol- 
low? Art  thou  leaning  upon  the  broken  reed  of 
earthly  good,  and  not  upon  the  Rock  of  Ages? 
Art  thou  seeking  thy  portion  here,  and  neglecting 
to  lay  up  treasures  in  heaven? — Oh,  that  I  might 
be  blessed  to  awaken  thee  to  a  sense  of  thy  condi- 
tion !  —  to  make  thee  feel  how  much  thou  hast  to 
gain,  and  how  much  to  forfeit;  to  call  thee  back 
from  the  brink  of  the  awful  precipice  on  which  thou 


THE    RESURRECTION    OF    CHRIST. 

art  standing!  Hear  me,  for  I  speak  the  words  of 
truth  and  soberness.  Hear  me,  for  I  speak  the 
words  of  rarnc.-t,  affectionate  solicitude  for  thy  best 
welfare!  Hear  me,  for  I  speak  in  the  name  of  Him 
who  died  to  save  thee,  and  who  rose,  and  has  gone 
to  intercede  for  thee.  BY  THE  VALUE  OF  THAT 

SOUL  WHICH  IS  IMMORTAL,  AND  THE  RETRIBUTIONS  OF 
THAT  STATE  WHICH  IS  ETERNAL,  I  BESEECH  THEE  TO 
HEAR  Mi:! 


204 


SERMON    XXXI. 


KEGENERATION. 
John  iii.  3.  — EXCEPT  A  MAN  BE  BORN  AGAIN,  HE  CANNOT  SEE  THE 

KINGDOM   OF   GOD. 

THIS  declaration  of  our  Saviour  to  Nicodemus 
has  been  the  occasion  of  much  perplexity,  and  not  a 
little  contention,  in  the  Christian  world.  I  shall  be 
happy  if  any  thing  I  now  say  will  afford  satisfaction 
to  a  serious  inquirer. 

The  expression  '  born  again '  is  evidently  figura- 
tive. It  refers,  not  to  the  animal  part  of  our  nature, 
but  to  the  principles  and  dispositions  of  the  soul. 
In  these,  before  a  man  can '  see,'  or,  as  it  is  afterwards 
expressed,  *  enter '  into  the  kingdom  of  GOD,  a  re- 
markable change  must  be  produced ;  so  great  that 
it  may  be  compared  to  the  change  that  would  hap- 
pen in  the  constitution  of  his  body,  if  he  should  be 
born  again,  and  reduced  to  his  former  state  of 
infancy. 

I  have  more  than  once  discoursed  to  you  on 
the  change  that  must  take  place  in  our  moral 
condition,  before  we  are  in  a  state  of  prepara- 
tion for  heaven.  I  have  shown  the  importance  of 


REGENERATION.  205 

regeneration;  its  necessity;  and  how  it  is  to  be 
effected. 

But,  notwithstanding  this,  I  find  with  many  some 
doubts  and  difficulties  still  lingering,  disturbing,  if 
not  destroying,  the  enjoyment  they  would  otherwise 
derive  from  religion,  and  keeping  them  back  from 
the  performance  of  religious  duties.  I  find  this 
with  some  who,  in  their  temper  and  conduct,  are 
giving  the  best  evidence  that  they  have  experienced 
this  change.  I  find  them  furnishing  this  evidence 
in  the  very  anxiety  they  feel  to  be  satisfied  that  a 
change  has  been  wrought  in  them  ;  for  an  unregen- 
erate  state,  in  its  common  acceptation,  implies  in- 
sensibility to  the  moral  condition ;  or  at  least  no 
real  desire  that  that  condition  should  be  altered. 

They  have  a  vague  impression  that  their  feelings 
and  views  must  be  different  from  what  they  now 
are :  that  a  sensible,  perceptible  change  must  take 
place ;  and  t  hat  t  hey  must  patiently  wait  till  it  pleases 
HIM  who  '  turneth  the  hearts  of  men,  as  the  rivers  of 
waters  are  turned,'  to  turn  their  hearts  from  sin  to 
holiness,  from  earth  to  heaven. 

They  are  right  in  supposing  that  this  change  is 
required.  Both  reason  and  Scripture  teach  its  ne- 
cessity. 

The  infant  of  days,  though  the  inspiration  of 
the  Almighty  has  given  it  understanding,  is  ap- 
parently a  creature  of  sense  and  appetite.  Its  in- 
tellect is  dormant;  there  is  the  germ  of  knowledge, 
but  it  is  not  unfolded  ;  and  how  great  is  the  change 
which  will  take  place,  when  the  powers  are  devel- 

VOL.  IT.  18 


206 


REGENERATION. 


ration.  Every  important  acquisition  is  an  important 
oped  and  cultivated.  It  is  an  intellectual  regene- 
change. 

The  infant  of  days  is  a  moral  being.  It  has  a 
capacity  for  virtue  and  holiness.  But  what  indi- 
cations are  there  of  virtue  and  holiness,  in  its  infant 
state  ?  There  is  the  germ  of  virtue,  but  it  is  dor- 
mant ;  how  great  a  change,  —  a  partial  new 
birth,  —  will  take  place  when  its  moral  sense  is  in 
exercise,  and  its  moral  character  formed !  If,  by 
the  blessing  of  GOD  on  a  pious  education,  it  is 
formed  to  piety,  it  will  be  a  change  from  a  state  of 
nature  to  a  state  of  grace. 

If  evil  habits  have  been  contracted,  and  repent- 
ance awakened,  and  reformation  effected,  it  will  be 
a  change  from  a  state  of  sin  to  a  state  of  grace. 

In  the  one  case  the  change  will  be  more  sudden, 
and  more  perceptible  and  palpable,  than  in  the 
other.  In  both  cases  a  change  has  taken  place ; 
and  the  change  of  state  which  now  exists,  is  a 
necessary  change.  A  state  of  grace  is  a  state  of 
holiness ;  and  *  without  holiness  no  man  can  see 
the  Lord.' 

And  here  is  the  evidence  of  the  existence  of  this 
state.  It  is  not  a  supernatural  revelation ;  an  ex- 
traordinary impulse ;  an  indescribable  feeling  or 
sensation,  which  gives  the  evidence.  We  have  the 
*  witness  in  ourselves,'  —  in  the  temper  of  our 
minds,  and  the  tenor  of  our  conduct.  c  If  ye 
know  that  He  is  righteous,  ye  know  that  every  one 
that  doeth  righteousness  is  born  of  Him  ! '  If  the 
fruit  is  good,  the  tree  must  be  good.  If  the  stream 


REGENERATION.  207 

is  pure,  the  fountain  must  be  pure.  Grapes  do  not 
grow  on  the  thorn-tree,  nor  figs  on  the  thistle. 

At  noon-day  we  have  no  doubt  of  the  existence 
of  the  sun,  though  it  may  be  obscured  by  clouds. 
In  the  light  which  surrounds  us,  we  see  and  feel 
the  effect,  though  we  behold  not  the  cause. 

It  is  thus  when  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  has 
shone  into  the  heart.  We  perceive  it  in  the  vivify- 
ing influences ;  in  the  light  which  it  imparts  ;  in  the 
virtues  and  graces  to  which  it  gives  life,  and  strength 
and  activity. 

Here,  I  think,  is  an  answer  to  those  who  inquire 
if  they  must  not  know  the  precise  time  and  manner 
of  their  being  first  enlightened  and  renewed.  You 
p<  rcrive  and  feel  the  effect  of  the  wind,  and  you 
know  little  more  than  this.  You  speak  your  native 
language,  and  you  have  thus  a  proof  that  you  have 
learned  it;  but  who  of  you  can  remember  the  time 
and  manner  of  its  acquisition? 

It  may  be  thus  in  religion.  If  you  perceive  the 
effect  in  yourselves,  you  need  not  doubt  the  cause. 
If  you  have  *  the  testimony  of  your  own  conscience, 
that  in  simplicity  and  godly  sincerity  you  have  your 
conversation  in  the  world,'  it  may  be  to  you  a  cause 
of  '  rejoicing,'  as  it  was  to  the  apostle;  for  it  is  an 
evidence  that  you  are  a  child  of  GOD.  *  The  fruit 
of  the  Spirit  is  in  all  goodness  and  righteousness 
and  truth.'  If  you  have  the  testimony  of  your  con- 
science that  you  are  better  than  you  have  been  ;  that 
you  are  more  serious  and  thoughtful  about  religion 
than  you  were,  and  more  anxious  to  fulfil  its  requi- 


208 


REGENERATION. 


sitions,  a  change  has  taken  place  in  you ;  and  thus 
far,  you  are  regenerated. 

If  you  have  been  converted  from  vice  and  wick- 
edness to  virtue  and  holiness,  you  must  have  strong 
convictions,  and  fears,  and  pangs  of  remorse ;  and 
these  must  be  objects  of  remembrance  as  long  as 
you  live.  But  here  the  effect  must  be  gradual. 
Conviction  is  not  conversion.  You  are  on  the 
brink  of  a  precipice,  and  have  been  arrested ;  but 
you  must  go  back ;  painfully  retrace  your  steps ; 
enter  on  a  new  and  safer  path,  and  pursue  it. 

You  have  much  to  unlearn,  and  much  to  learn. 
You  have  bad  principles  to  eradicate,  and  good 
principles  to  gain.  You  have  bad  habits  to  discard, 
and  good  habits  to  acquire. 

You  have  come  to  GOD  ;  but  you  must '  acquaint 
yourself  with  GOD.'  You  are  awakened  to  the 
necessity  of  righteousness ;  but  you  must  '  follow 
after  righteousness.'  On  the  other  hand,  if  you 
have  had  early  instruction  in  piety,  and  profited  by 
it ;  if,  like  the  disciple  and  convert  of  St.  Paul,  you 
have  been  taught  the  Scriptures  from  your  child- 
hood, and  by  the  grace  of  GOD  have  learned  and 
practised  them,  you  may  not  remember  the  com- 
mencement of  the  spiritual  life ;  though  you  must 
remember  much  of  unworthiness,  and  must  still  be 
conscious  of  it. 

I  have  used  the  terms  a  state  of  nature,  and  a 
state  of  grace,  in  conformity  with  the  language  of 
the  Christian  World.  It  is  language  familiar  to 
many  of  you.  The  question,  What  is  our  moral 


REGi:.\KKATin\. 

state  by  nature?  is  rather  curious  than  useful.  The 
most  important  inquiry  is,  What  we  are  by  prac- 
tice? what  is  our  present  state? 

It  is  thought  by  many  that  we  are  depraved  by 
nature:  and  that  the  conviction  of  this  depravity 
should  occasion  penitential  sorrow.  There  is  much 
cause  for  penitential  sorrow,  if  we  have  corrupted  our 
own  ways  and  made  ourselves  sinful.  We  are  not 
accustomed  to  repent  of  the  natural  deformity  of  our 
persons,  or  of  any  tendency  to  debility  or  disease 
which  we  have  inherited  from  our  progenitors.  If, 
by  our  own  misconduct,  we  have  brought  these  evils 
upon  ourselves,  there  is  cause  indeed  for  sorrow, 
though  sorrow  may  be  unavailing. 

It  is  thus  with  our  moral  condition.  If  we  are 
sinners  by  nature,  it  is  not  of  ourselves  that  we  are 
so.  If  we  are  sinners  by  practice,  it  is  our  own 
fault,  and  we  cannot  too  deeply  repent,  or  too  dili- 
ijently  engage  in  reformation. 

It  is  supposed  by  some  that  the  declaration  of 
our  Saviour  in  the  text,  has  reference  to  those  who 
would  become  converts  to  Christianity,  and  be  re- 
ceived into  the  kingdom  he  had  come  to  establish 
on  earth,  which  is  often  designated  in  Scripture,  as 
the  *  kingdom  of  GOD  ;  '  that  when  he  said  *  Except 
a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  enter  the  kingdom 
of  GOD/  he  alludes  to  the  radical  change  which  must 
take  place  in  the  principles  and  dispositions  of  those 
who  should  embrace  his  religion. 

Tliis  opinion  certainly  receives  countenance  from 
a  declaration  in  a  subsequent  verse.  '  Except  a 
18* 


210  REGENERATION. 

man  be  born  of  water  and  of  the  Spirit,'  that  is, 
except  he  receive  the  ordinance  of  baptism,  which 
is  the  initiatory  rite,  and  be  possessed  of  a  spiritual 
temper,  he  cannot  become  a  member  of  the  Chris- 
tian church.  It  is  also  supposed  to  receive  counte- 
nance from  the  fact,  that  the  same  phrase  l  born 
again '  is  used  by  the  Jews  in  reference  to  those 
who  had  become  converts  to  Judaism ;  which  may 
account  for  the  surprise  expressed  by  our  Saviour, 
that  Nicodemus,  who  was  a  Jew,  should  not  at 
once  have  comprehended  him.  '  Art  thou  a  master 
in  Israel,  and  knowest  not  these  things  ?  ' 

To  conclude.  A  change,  then,  must  take  place 
from  a  state  of  nature,  to  a  state  of  grace  and 
holiness.  The  evidence  of  this  change  is  to  be 
found  in  our  disposition  and  conduct.  This  change 
is  regeneration.  It  is  effected  gradually ;  and  to 
many,  its  commencement  may  not  have  been  known- 
In  effecting  it  there  must  be  a  union  of  human 
labor  and  divine  illumination  j  the  Spirit  of  GOD 
rendering  effectual  the  efforts  of  man. 

Let  us  examine  ourselves,  my  hearers,  to  see 
whether  this  change  has  taken  place  in  us.  If  not, 
let  us  pray  for  it,  and  labor  for  it. 

If  we  desire  it,  it  has  begun ;  and  it  is  by  the 
use  of  means,  with  GOD'S  blessing,  that  it  is  to  be 
carried  on  to  perfection. 


211 


SERMON  XXXII 


PHILIP  AND  THE  ETHIOPIAN. 

Acts  viii.  37. — ir  THOU  BELIEVEST  WITH  ALL  THY  HEART,  THOU 
MATEST. 

I  HAVE  read  to  you  this  afternoon  the  history  of 
the  conversion  of  the  treasurer  of  Ethiopia  through 
the  instrumentality  of  Philip  the  Evangelist. 

It  presents  us  an  instance  of  candor  and  diligence 
in  the  investigation  of  truth,  and  of  the  efficacy  of 
religion  in  promoting  the  happiness  of  those  who 
embrace  it. 

The  Ethiopian  was  already  a  convert  to  Judaism ; 
and  had  come  up  to  Jerusalem,  at  the  season  of 
one  of  the  great  festivals  of  the  Jewish  church,  to 
worship.  His  Bible  was  the  companion  of  his 
journey. 

In  order  to  preserve  alive  the  flame  of  devotion 
which  had  been  kindled  in  his  breast  by  the  holy 
services  of  the  temple  in  Jerusalem,  as  he  return- 
ed, he  read,  in  his  chariot,  the  book  of  the  pro- 
phet Isaiah. 

The  Providence  of  GOD,  which  watches  over  all 


PHILIP    AlSfD    THE    ETHIOPIAN. 

events,  had,  doubtless,  directed  the  subject  of  his 
reading,  and  now  sends  an  interpreter. 

The  evangelist  Philip,  driven  by  persecution 
from  Jerusalem,  was  travelling  in  the  desert,  and 
was  directed  by  the  Spirit  of  GOD  to  join  himself 
to  the  Ethiopian  treasurer,  who  was  reading  the 
fifty-third  chapter  of  Isaiah  when  the  evangelist 
joined  him. 

It  is  a  remarkable  chapter,  —  apart  from  the  im- 
portance of  its  momentous  subject,  —  so  remarka- 
ble, that  I  shall  digress,  for  a  moment,  to  dwell 
upon  it. 

It  is  a  prophecy  of  the  sufferings  and  death  of 
the  Messiah;  but,  from  the  form  of  expression, 
assumes  much  the  appearance  of  a  history  of  those 
events. 

<  Wrapt  into  future  times,'  in  the  spirit  of  pro- 
phecy, the  scene  comes  up  so  vividly  to  the  pro- 
phet's view,  that  it  appears  as  if  the  fearful  tragedy 
was  enacted  before  him.  He  seems  to  forget 
himself,  and  changes  the  form  of  expression  from 
the  future  to  the  present  tense.  i  He  is  despised 
and  rejected  of  men  ;  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  ac- 
quainted with  grief.' 

The  whole  scene  passes  before  him.  The  pa- 
tient sufferer,  '  led  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter,'  is 
crucified  and  slain.  The  scene  closes,  and  the 
prophet  speaks  of  it  as  a  thing  gone  by.  '  Surely 
he  hath  borne  our  griefs  and  carried  our  sorrows. 
He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  and 
bruised  for  our  iniquities ;  the  chastisement  of  our 


PHILIT    AND    THE    ETHIOPIAN.  '2 1  o 

peace  was  on  Him,  and  by  his  stripes  we  are 
healed.  All  we  like  sheep  have  gone  astray ;  and 
the  Lord  hath  laid  on  Him  the  iniquity  of  us 
all.  He  was  oppressed  and  he  was  afflicted,  yet 
he  opened  not  his  mouth ;  he  is  brought  as  a  lamb 
to  the  slaughter,  and  as  a  sheep  before  her  shearers 
is  dumb,  so  he  opened  not  his  mouth.  He  was 
taken  from  prison  and  from  judgment;  and  who 
shall  declare  his  generation  ?  for  he  was  cut  off  out 
of  the  land  of  the  living ;  for  the  transgression  of 
my  people  was  he  stricken.  And  he  made  his 
grave  with  the  wicked,  and  with  the  rich  in  his 
death ;  because  he  had  done  no  violence,  neither 
was  any  deceit  in  his  mouth.  Yet  it  pleased  the 
Lord  to  bruise  him ;  He  hath  put  him  to  shame.7 

The  Ethiopian  asks  from  Philip  an  explanation 
of  the  prophecy,  and  receives  it. 

He  listened  with  meekness  and  candor  to  the 
instructions  of  the  evangelist;  became  a  convert  to 
Christianity,  and  'went  on  his  way  rejoicing.* 

No  portion  of  Scripture  could  have  furnished  a 
more  appropriate  text  for  the  expounder,  and,  if  it 
had  not  already  employed  the  attention  of  his  dis- 
tinguished pupil,  he  would  have  done  well  to  begin 
'at  this  same  Scripture*  when  he  would  *  preach  to 
him  Jesus.' 

We  have  not  even  an  abridgment  of  Philip's  ex- 
position. 

We  may  suppose,  however,  that  he  discoursed  of 
the  nature  and  offices  of  Christ;  of  the  design  of 
his  coming  into  the  world ;  and  of  the  influence 


214  PHILIP    AND    THE    ETHIOPIAN. 

which  his  religion  ought  to  exert  upon  the  hearts 
and  lives  of  those  who  should  embrace  it. 

It  is  evident  that  he  instructed  him  in  the  nature 
of  one,  at  least,  and  probably  of  both,  the  institu- 
tions of  Christianity,  for,  as  soon  as  he  is  a  believer, 
he  desires  to  receive  the  badge  of  discipleship,  and 
to  be  received  to  the  Christian  community  by  the 
rite  of  baptism.  *  See,  here  is  water,  what  doth 
hinder  that  I  should  be  baptized  ? ' 

The  reply  of  Philip  was  such  as  we  might  have 
expected  it  would  be :  c  If  thou  believest  with  all 
thy  heart,  thou  mayest.' 

We  then  have  his  profession  of  faith.  And 
what  is  it?  Does  it  consist  of  a  long  enumeration 
of  articles  such  as  in  later  times  have  often  been 
made  the  condition  of  Christian  communion  ?  Far 
from  it.  <  I  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Son  of 
GOD.' 

We  are  all  the  children  of  GOD.  We  were 
created  by  Him;  —  we  bear  His  image,  however 
defaced  by  transgression. 

But  more  than  this,  far  more  than  this,  was 
intended  by  this  confession. 

By  the  phrase  '  Son  of  GOD  '  was  understood,  by 
the  Jews,  the  Messiah  foretold  by  the  prophets ;  the 
Redeemer ;  the  Saviour.  '  We  have  a  law,'  said  the 
Jews  to  Pilate,  *  and  by  our  law  he  ought  to  die, 
because  he  made  himself  the  Son  of  GOD,'  that  is, 
because  he  made  himself  the  Messiah,  the  prophet 
that  was  to  come. 

So  familiar  was  this  appellation  of  the  Son  of 


PHILIP    AND    THE    ETHIOPIAN.  215 

GOD  who  was  expected,  that  the  Romans  were 
not  ignorant  of  it.  The  centurion,  and  they  that 
were  \\ith  him,  attending  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus, 
when  they  saw  the  earthquake,  and  those  things 
that  were  done,  exclaimed,  'Truly  this  was  the  Son 
of  GOD.' 

Such  was  the  confession  of  this  new  believer; 
and  from  this  confession  we  may  judge  of  the 
nature  of  Philip's  preaching. 

On  its  being  made,  they  alighted  from  the  chariot, 
and  went  down  into  the  water,  both  Philip  and  the 
Ethiopian,  and  he  baptized  him. 

The  words  in  this  passage  rendered  *  into '  and 
*  out  of,'  might,  with  as  much  propriety,  have  been 
rendered  to  and  from;  and  have  actually  thus  been 
rendered,  by  the  same  translators,  in  other  parts  of 
Scripture.  It  is  of  small  importance,  however, 
whether  the  Ethiopian  received  this  rite  by  immer- 
sion, as  it  is  adini nisi* -red  by  the  Antipedo  Bap- 
tists, ( the  opposers  of  infant  baptism,)  or  sprinkling, 
as  the  Pedo  Baptists  administer  it,  or  by  affusion, 
as  is  practised  by  the  Greek  Church. 

It  is  not  the  form,  but  the  thing  signified  by  that 
form,  that  is  of  importance. 

Our  religion  was  designed  to  be  universal ;  and  its 
institutions,  in  their  simplicity,  in  the  fewness  of 
their  number,  and  in  the  want  of  any  special  direc- 
tions as  to  the  mode  of  administering  them,  are 
adapted  to  that  design. 

Whatever  mode,  under  existing  circumstances,  is 


216  PHILIP    AND    THE    ETHIOPIAN. 

the  most  convenient,  and  desirable,  is  the  most 
proper. 

Baptism  by  immersion  could  not  ordinarily  be 
administered  to  the  sick  or  the  aged,  in  the  midst  of 
winter,  without  hazard  to  the  life  of  the  recipient ; 
and  we  can  conceive  of  various  circumstances 
which  might  render  that  mode  of  administering  it 
inexpedient,  or  impracticable. 

For  myself,  I  am  free  to  say  that  I  have  not  a 
bigoted  attachment  to  our  own  mode;  but  am 
willing  to  use  either. 

It  appears,  then,  that  the  belief  which  is  requisite 
in  order  to  admission  to  the  Church  of  Christ, — 
for  it  is  by  baptism,  and  not  by  a  reception  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  that  we  are  admitted  to  that  Church, 
—  is  an  assent  to  the  fact,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the 
Son  of  God,  the  promised  Redeemer. 

How  much  is  included  in  this  character  of  Jesus, 
why  he  came,  and  what  he  hath  done  for  us,  it  is 
for  each  one  to  satisfy  himself  by  a  diligent  study 
of  his  Bible. 

But  is  an  assent  to  the  simple  truth  that  Jesus 
Christ  is  the  Son  of  GOD,  the  only  requisite  to  our 
participation  of  Christian  privileges,  and  of  all  the 
blessings  of  that  salvation  which  the  Redeemer  has 
1  purchased  with  his  blood '  ?  Is  not  *  repentance 
towards  GOD,'  as  much  required  as  'faith  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  ? '  Was  not  this  the  uniforrrt 
language  of  our  Saviour,  and  his  apostles?  and 
is  it  not  expressly  declared  that  '  without  holiness, 
no  man  shall  see  the  Lord  ? ' 

If  we  revert  to  the  language  of   Philip  in  the 


PHILIP    AND    THE    ETHIOPIAN.  217 

text,  we  shall  find  it  in  perfect  harmony  with  those 
declarations ;  as  indeed  ah1  the  declarations  of  Scrip- 
ture are  really  in  harmony  with  one  another.  *  If 
thou  believest  with  all  thy  heart,  thou  mayest.' 
'It  is  not  enough  that  thou  yieldest  the  assent  of 
thy  understanding  to  the  fact  that  Jesus  is  the 
Messiah ;  thou  must  yield  also  the  assent  of  thy 
heart ;  thou  must  feel  this  important  truth,  in  order 
to  thy  being  a  true  disciple  of  Jesus,  and  worthy  of 
admission  to  his  kingdom.' 

This,  rny  friends,  is  not  the  least  important,  nor 
the  least  difficult  part  of  religion.  The  truth  of 
our  religion  is  built  upon  the  most  solid  foundation. 
It  is  impossible,  one  would  think,  for  any  one  to 
examine,  with  candor,  its  evidence,  and  refuse  his 
assent. 

But  it  is  one  thing  to  acknowledge  the  truth  of 
Christianity,  and  another  to  feel  its  influence. 
c  With  the  heart  man  believeth  unto  righteousness,' 
and  then  with  'the  tongue  maketh  confession  unto 
salvation.' 

We  may  have  *  faith  enough  to  remove  moun- 
tains,' and  zeal  enough  to  become  martyrs  for  our 
faith:  and  yet  maybe  destitute  of  that  faith  and 
zeal  which  will  render  us  acceptable  to  GOD.  *  Not 
every  one  that  saith  unto  me,  Lord,  Lord,  shall 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  but  he  that 
doeth  the  will  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven.' 

The  faith  required,  is  a  'faith  that  workeih  by 
love ; '  a  faith  that  produces  the  fruits  of  righteous- 
ness ;  a  faith  that  makes  us  more  humble ;  more 

VOL.    II.  19 


218 


PHILIP    AND    THE    ETHIOPIAN. 


self-denying ;  more  forgiving ;  more  patient ;  more 
submissive ;  more  devout ;  more  ready  to  do,  and 
suffer,  the  will  of  God. 

Such  is  the  faith  which  will  render  us  the  true 
disciples  of  the  blessed  Jesus,  for  such  was  his 
character;  and  it  is  a  faith  of  more  worth  than 
an  assent  to  the  longest  creed  that  was  ever  drawn 
up,  however  wise  the  head,  or  pious  the  heart  that 
framed  it. 

How  often  have  I  witnessed  the  operation  of 
this  faith  on  those  who  knew  nothing  of  systems 
of  theology  which  have  unhappily  divided  and 
distracted  the  Christian  world;  who  knew  only 
that  their  Bible  was  the  Word  of  God;  who  found 
in  that  a  Saviour ;  and,  however  rugged  the  path  of 
their  pilgrimage  of  life,  like  the  Ethiopian  treasurer, 
went  on  their  way  rejoicing. 

May  it  be  ours  to  possess  the  same  faith,  that  we 
may  be  partakers  of  the  same  joy ! 


219 


SERMON    XXXIII. 


CHARGE  AT  THE  INSTALLATION  OF  A  MINISTER. 

IN  the  solemn  hour  of  retirement,  my  brother, 
you  have  meditated  on  the  nature  and  importance 
of  the  sacred  office.  When  bowing  your  knees 
to  '  the  GOD  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
-t,'  you  have  felt  and  acknowledged  your  in- 
sufficiency. With  unutterable  emotions  you  have 
looked  forward  to  the  day  when  you  should  be  in- 
vested with  the  pastoral  office,  and  intrusted  with 
the  care  of  immortal  souls. 

That  day,  —  the  day  to  which  so  many  anxious 
thoughts  had  been  turned,  and  on  which  so  many 
ardent,  yet  trembling  hopes  were  suspended,  —  at 
length  arrived.  You  became  a  minister  of  Jesus 
Christ ;  the  pastor  of  a  Christian  church. 

You  do  not  come  hither,  a  novice,  to  be  instructed 
in  the  rudiments  of  ministerial  duty.  You  have 
already  been  invested  with  the  sacred  office;  you 
have  received  the  solemn  charge ;  you  have  had  the 
care  of  immortal  souls,  and  you  come  here  fraught, 
in  some  measure,  with  the  lessons  of  experience. 


220 


CHARGE    AT    AN    INSTALLATION. 


Why,  then,  should  I  take  upon  me  to  teach  you 
what  you  may  be  supposed  already  to  know ;  to 
inculcate  duties  you  have  already  been  called  to 
fulfil  ? 

;  They  that  feared  the  Lord  spake  often  one  to 
another,'  and  it  can  never  be  unsuitable  for  Chris- 
tians, and  especially  for  Christian  ministers,  <  to  stir 
up  each  other's  minds,  by  way  of  remembrance.' 

More  especially  is  it  appropriate  on  an  occasion 
like  the  present ;  and  much  does  it  add  to  its 
solemnity  and  impressiveness  for  an  elder  to  ex- 
hort a  younger  brother ;  for  one  around  whom  the 
shadows  of  evening  are  beginning  to  descend,  to 
admonish  him  who  has  labored  only  in  the  morning, 
and  has  not  yet  borne  '  the  burden  and  heat  of  the 
day.' 

My  charge  to  you  might  be  comprehended  in 
(two  words.  Be  faithful.  Faithful  to  GOD  who 
has  put  you  into  the  ministry ;  and,  amidst  conflict- 
ing doubts  respecting  duty,  has  overruled,  as  we 
trust,  your  decision,  and  sent  you  to  labor  in  this 
vineyard ;  faithful  to  the  souls,  which,  in  this  solemn 
hour,  are  committed  to  your  care ;  faithful  to  your- 
self, who  have  been  endowed  with  ministerial  gifts, 
and  must  render  an  account  of  the  manner  in  which 
you  employ  them. 

Whatever  of  active  duty,  whatever  of  private 
study,  whatever  of  meditation,  watchfulness  and 
prayer,  is  requisite  to  this  end,  neglect  not. 

'Take  heed  to  your  ministry  that  you  fulfil  it;' 
to  your  instructions,  that  they  be  '  drawn  from  the 


CHARGE    AT    AN    INSTALLATION.  221 

oracles  of  God ;  to  your  example,  that  it  be  *  such 
as  becometh  the  gospel  of  Christ.' 

Belong  to  no  theological  party,  as  such.  What- 
ever opinions  you  may  hold  in  speculative  theology, 
be  careful  to  inculcate  religion,  and  let  your  life  be 
a  transcript  of  the  holy  doctrine  you  teach. 

Like  the  eastern  shepherds,  lead  your  flocks. 
Mark,  with  your  own  footsteps,  the  path  to  heaven. 
Remember  that  '  Holiness  to  the  LORD'  was  the  in- 
scription on  the  breast-plate  of  the  high  priest,  who 
was  appointed  by  GOD. 

Visit  from  house  to  house.  You  have  the  ex- 
ample of  an  eminent  apostle  for  this.  You  have 
the  example  of  your  Lord  and  Master  for  it.  l  He 
went  about  doing  good.' 

Twice,  at  least,  every  year,  —  and  I  care  not  how 
much  oftener,  where  it  can  be  done  to  good  purpose, 
and  not  encroach  on  necessary  duties, —  twice  every 
year  have  affectionate  ministerial  intercourse  with 
every  family  in  your  charge.  Let  your  stated  visits 
always,  and  your  occasional  visits  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, serve  for  edification.  Carry  the  message  which 
you  have  received,  as  an  ambassador  for  Christ,  into 
every  house.  It  is  your  duty,  and,  —  I  now  say  it 
in  the  hearing  of  your  people,  —  it  will  be  a  bless- 
ing to  them  if  you  do  so. 

Be  often,  when  the  providence  of  GOD  calls  you 
to  it,  ' beside  the  bed  where  parting  life  is  laid.'  Be 
especially  attentive  to  the  sick  and  sorrowful.  In 
the  alarming  hour,  when  the  shades  thicken,  and 
1  the  feet  stumble  on  the  dark  mountains,'  be  you 

19* 


222 


CHARGE    AT    AN    INSTALLATION. 


at  hand  to  counsel,  to  warn,  to  console,  as  the  occa- 
sion may  require;  to  point  the  sinner  to  the  awful 
retributions  of  eternity,  and  to  open,  on  the  eye  of 
faith,  the  bright  visions  of  heaven. 

In  the  hour  of  affliction,  when  a  pillar  of  support 
has  failed ;  when  vain  hopes  deceive  no  longer ; 
when  every  proud,  rebellious  passion  is  silenced; 
when  a  cloud  hangs  over  the  world;  when  every 
avenue  to  the  heart  is  open,  be  you  at  hand  to 
pour  instruction  and  consolation  into  the  bleeding 
spirit. 

In  the  season  of  spiritual  distress,  when  the  '  ter- 
rors of  the  Lord'  set  themselves  in  array  against 
the  guilty,  or  when  despondency  and  despair  take 
hold  on  the  timid,  feeble  soul,  be  you  at  hand  to 
apply  the  healing  balm  to  the  wounded  conscience ; 
to  administer  strength  to  '  the  weak  hands,  and 
feeble  knees,  and  fearful  in  heart.' 

Be  thus  the  confidential  counsellor,  the  affection- 
ate, sympathizing  friend  of  your  people ;  rejoicing 
in  all  their  joys,  and  in  all  their  afflictions  afflicted, 
that  when  i  the  eye  sees  you  it  may  bless  you,  and 
when  the  ear  hears  you  it  may  bear  witness  to 
you.' 

To  this  end,  give  yourself  wholly  to  the  work. 
1  Be  instant,  in  season  and  out  of  season.'  '  Watch 
for  souls,  as  one  that  must  give  an  account.' 

Thus  we  charge  you.  Before  this  assembly  who 
are  the  witnesses  of  this  solemn  transaction ;  before 
the  angels  who  are  ministering  spirits  to  the  church 
of  GOD  ;  before  GOD  and  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 


CHARGE    AT    AN    INSTALLATION.  223 

who  shall  judge  the  quick  and  dead  at  his  appear- 
ing, we  charge  you. 

By  the  mercies  of  GOD  ;  by  the  blood  of  Christ 
which  was  shed  for  the  redemption  of  a  sinful 
world  ;  by  the  worth  of  your  own  soul,  and  of  these 
precious  immortal  souls  which  are  intrusted  to  your 
ministerial  watch  and  guidance;  by  the  solemnities 
of  this  occasion,  and  the  vows  of  GOD  that  are  upon 
you ;  we  charge  you  to  *  take  heed  to  this  ministry,' 
to  Hake  heed  to  yourself.' 

In  tli is  day,  when  our  churches  are  rent  by  di- 
visions, when  'the  love  of  many  has  waxed  cold  ;' 
when  the  voice  of  the  scoffer  is  heard,  *  Where  is 
the  promise  of  his  coming  V  when  the  book  of 
nature  and  the  book  of  grace  are  so  often  reading 
their  heavenly  lessons  in  vain;  when  the  under- 
staiidinir.  which  is  itself  an  impress  of  the  divinity, 
is  employed  in  denying  the  Inspiration  that  gave  it; 
when  freedom  of  thought  and  action  is  tending  to 
licentiousness;  how  much  have  the  ministers  of 
religion  to  do,  even  to  bear  up,  under  GOD,  the  ark 
of  the  Lord.  How  much  more  to  bring  into,  and 
keep  in  it,  from  the  beast  of  prey,  from  the  noisome 
pestilence,  from  the  whelming  flood  of  ungodliness, 
the  immortal  souls  committed  to  their  care! 

Whilst  you  think  of  these  things,  does  not  l the 
fire  burn  within  you?'  and  will  it  not  impel  you 
utiK  -(  i  vedly,  laboriously,  zealously,  to  devote  your- 
self to  this  good  cause,  this  high  and  holy  call- 
ing? 

It  is  known  neither  to  you  nor  me,  what  trials 


224 


CHARGE    AT    AN    INSTALLATION. 


are  before  you.  l  Fear  God,'  and  you  will  have 
nothing  else  to  fear. 

It  must  needs  be  that  you  will  have  occasion 
often  to  adopt  the  plaintive  language  of  the  prophet, 
4  I  have  labored  in  vain  and  spent  my  strength  for 
nought ; '  that  some  seeds  will  '  fall  by  the  wayside 
and  be  trodden  under  foot  of  men,'  some  among 
thorns,  '  and  be  choked  ; '  some  '  upon  a  rock,  where 
there  is  no  depth  of  earth  *; '  but  it  will  also  be  that 
of  that  which  fell  by  the  wayside,  some  will  be 
pressed  into  the  earth,  and  will  not  die  ;  of  that 
which  fell  among  thorns,  some  will  not  be  choked, 
but  swell  and  unfold  itself ;  and  that  that  which  fell 
on  a  rock  will  find  a  crevice  where  there  is  good 
soil,  and  will  germinate  and  bring  forth  fruit  unto 
everlasting  life.  '  If  we  hope  for  that  we  see  not, 
then  do  we  patiently  wait  for  it.'  The  husbandman 
tarrieth  long,  and  is  patient  for  the  early  and  the 
latter  rain. 

Be  thou  also  patient,  and  thy  labor  will  not  be 
in  vain  in  the  Lord.  In  due  time  you  will  reap,  if 
you  faint  not.  i  Be  faithful  unto  death,  and  you 
will  receive  a  crown  of  life.' 

Go  forth,  then,  my  brother,  in  the  name  and 
strength  of  the  Lord.  Long  may  you  live,  ap- 
proving yourself  faithful;  and,  having  finished  your 
course  with  joy,  have  many  of  this  people,  their 
children,  and  the  children  yet  to  be  born,  as  your 
joy  and  crown  in  the  day  of  Christ's  appearing. 


225 


SERMON  XXXIV. 


TUB    LORD'S    SUPPER. 
Matthew  xxvi.  31.  —  THEN  SAITH  JESUS  UNTO  THEM,  ALL  YE  SHALL 

BE  OFFENDED  BECAUSE  OF  ME  THIS  NIGHT  J  FOR  IT  IS  WRITTEN, 
I  WILL  SMITE  THE  SHEPHERD,  AND  THE  SHEEP  OF  THE  FLOCK 
SHALL  BE  SCATTERED  ARROAD. 

I  CONSIDER  these  words  as  worthy  of  particular 
notice ;  not  merely  as  containing  a  prediction  which 
was  literally  fulfilled,  but  as  connected!  with  the 
commemorative  rite  which  had  just  been  observed  ; 
and  with  the  character,  and  subsequent  conduct  of 
those  who  had  received  it  at  the  hands  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

The  words  were  spoken  after,  and  probably  im- 
mediately after,  the  institution  of  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per, which  had  been  administered  by  Jesus  himself 
to  his  disciples. 

I  say  to  his  disciples.  It  is  probable,  however, 
that  Judas  had  gone  out,  and  that  eleven  only  were 
present.  Indeed,  Judas  was  excluded  by  the  very 
terms  of  the  institution,  as  he  was  soon  by  his  own 
act, —  and  this  was  well  known  to  our  Saviour, — 
to  render  himself  incapable  of  partaking  of  it. 


226 


To  eleven  of  the  disciples,  then,  Jesus  himself 
gave  it  in  charge  to  commemorate  him  in  the  ordi- 
nance of  the  Supper ;  and,  immediately  after,  fore- 
warned them  that  they  would  all  desert  him  at  a 
time  when  he  would  stand  most  in  need  of  their 
presence  and  support. 

4  All  ye  shall  be  offended  because  of  me  this 
night ;  for  it  is  written,  I  will  smite  the  Shepherd, 
and  the  sheep  shall  be  scattered  abroad.' 

It  was  the  night  of  his  agony.  It  was  the  night 
of  his  apprehension,  when  he  was  to  be  betrayed 
into  the  hands  of  his  enemies  ;  and,  in  this  night, 
they  whom  he  had  chosen  from  among  the  multi- 
tude of  mankind  to  be  his  associates  and  friends, 
were  to  forsake  him,  to  leave  him  to  suffer  alone. 
One  of  them,  and  he,  too,  the  most  ardent  in  his 
protestations  of  attachment,  was  to  deny,  with 
asseverations  and  oaths,  that  he  knew  him. 

Such  were  the  first  celebrators  of  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per. Such  were  they  to  whom  the  Saviour  admin- 
istered the  ordinance  with  his  own  hand. 

I  present  them  thus  to  you,  my  hearers,  not,  as 
you  must  well  know,  as,  in  this  respect,  examples, 
—  in  as  far  as  they  can  be,  —  for  those  who  come 
after  them  ;  not  as  an  encouragement  to  communi- 
cants to  be  inconsistent  in  their  conduct  with  their 
profession ;  no !  but  to  show  that,  at  the  com- 
mencement, as  it  is  now,  and  must  always  be,  they 
who  joined  in  this  rite  were  frail,  erring  mortals  ; 
weakest  when  they  relied  most  on  their  strength  ; 
and  betrayed  into  danger  and  sin  by  their  own  con- 
fidence of  safety. 


227 


These  are  facts  which,  one  would  suppose,  would 
serve  to  quiet  many  of  the  apprehensions  that  are 
1'rlt  on  this  subject;  and  to  correct  the  impression 
thai  ;i  thorough,  radical  change  must  take  place  in 
the  character  before  we  may  venture  to  partake  of 
the  Lord's  Supper;  that  an  entire  victory  over  the 
world  must  be  obtained ;  and  a  habit  of  self-denial 
confirmed. 

Did  our  Saviour  require  this  ?  Why  then  did  he 
admit  the  disciples  to  the  first  celebration  of  the 
ordinance,  and  enjoin  them  to  continue  to  observe 
it  in  memory  of  him  ? 

Had  such  a  change  taken  place  in  the  disciples  ? 
Had  they  obtained  this  victory  over  the  world ;  this 
habit  of  self-denial;  this  self-devotion  to  Christ, 
and  his  religion  ? 

So  far  from  it,  that  we  find  that  almost  in  the 
same  breath  with  which  he  appointed  this  celebra- 
tion, he  admonished  them  of  their  fall. 

Aware  of  their  weakness  and  danger,  for  the 
same  reason  that  he  exhorted  them  to  watch  and 
pray,  he  instituted  this  memorial ;  to  revive  in  their 
minds,  when  he  should  be  no  longer  with  them,  the 
recollections  of  his  instructions,  and  his  life ;  all 
that  he  had  done,  and  all  that  he  had  suffered  for 
them. 

It  was  appointed,  not  for  those  who  had  already 
attained,  but  for  those  who  were  still  struggling 
with  temptation  and  sin;  who  had  much  to  do, 
and  had  need  of  much  aid  to  enable  them  them  to 
do  it.  It  was  a  staff  to  support  them  ;  a  panoply 


22S 


to  protect  them ;  a  monitor  to  guide  and  quicken 
them,  in  their  pilgrimage  of  duty  and  trial. 

True,  they  were  to  forsake  him  in  the  time  of  his 
greatest  need;  they  were  to  forsake  him  at  the 
moment  when  he  was  most  strikingly  exhibiting  his 
love  for  them;  but  the  time  would  come  when 
these  simple,  yet  expressive  emblems  of  his  '  body 
broken  and  his  blood  shed '  for  them,  would  speak 
to  their  hearts  in  a  language  which  could  not  be 
resisted.  The  time  would  come  when  these  simple 
emblems  would  fill  them  with  shame  and  sorrow 
for  their  weakness  and  cowardice,  in  basely  desert- 
ing him ;  and  nerve  them  with  strength  and  courage 
to  follow  him  to  prison  and  to  death. 

Such  was,  doubtless,  the  design  of  this  ordi- 
nance. An  instrument  of  spiritual  good.  The 
means,  and  not  the  end. 

It  was  Jesus  who  appointed  it ;  and  to  him,  and 
those  who  were  instructed  immediately  by  him,  we 
must  look  for  information  respecting  its  nature  and 
design. 

The  language  of  Jesus,  in  its  institution,  is, 
4  This  do  in  remembrance  of  me.'  The  language 
of  an  apostle  who  received  it  from  him,  is,  '  as 
often  as  ye  eat  this  bread,  and  drink  this  cup,  ye  do 
shew  forth  the  Lord's  death  till  he  come ; '  lan- 
guage, I  may  remark,  that  indicates  the  intended 
perpetuity  of  the  rite. 

The  Lord's  Supper,  then,  is  simply  a  memorial  of 
Jesus  Christ.  Divested  of  the  load  which  human 
expositions  have  laid  upon  it;  stripped  of  the 


THE  LORD'S  SUPPER.  229 

appendages  with  which  human  ingenuity  and 
superstition  have  arrayed  it;  it  is  nothing  more  nor 
less  than  a  commemoration  of  the  sufferings  and 
death  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  a  history  conveyed  by 
sensible  objects  to  the  eye,  which,  of  all  the  senses, 
has  the  quickest  commerce  with  the  soul.  It  is  a 
lively  picture,  presenting  to  mankind,  in  all  ages,  a 
rej ) resent  at  ion  of  the  most  interesting  transaction 
that  has  ever  taken  place ;  and  in  which  all  man- 
kind have  a  deep  concern. 

From  our  natural  weakness  and  levity,  we  often 
forget,  and  often  receive  with  indifference,  the  most 
important  truths  which  are  addressed  to  our  un- 
derstandings through  the  medium  of  language  only, 
without  the  aid  of  sensible  signs. 

M<n  in  nil  ages,  indeed,  have  been  so  fully  aware 
of  this,  that  they  have  always  employed  some 
sensible  sign  to  perpetuate  the  remembrance  of 
splendid  achievements,  of  memorable  events,  of 
important  services  to  themselves  and  their  country. 
Hence  the  statues,  the  public  monuments,  the 
solemn  festivals;  designed  to  speak  to  the  eyes, 
and  to  move  the  soul  through  the  channel  of  the 
senses. 

Too  often,  it  is  true,  these  ceremonies  have 
only  served  to  consecrate  the  vices,  and  the  pride  of 
men ;  the  ravages  of  conquerors,  who  were  the  dis- 
grace and  scourge  of  the  earth.  But  the  principle 
is  founded  in  our  nature,  in  the  feelings  of  our 
hearts,  which  need  to  be  excited  by  sensible  objects. 

We  have  here  the  reason  for  the  institution  of 
VOL.  ii.  20 


* 

230 


the  Lord's  Supper.  It  was  unquestionably  the 
design  of  our  Saviour,  as  I  have  intimated,  to  pre- 
sent in  this  institution,  a  complete,  though  hasty, 
picture  of  all  he  had  done  and  suffered  for  us. 

The  bread  broken,  and  the  wine  poured  out, 
which  signify  nothing  of  themselves,  are  visible 
symbols  of  his  body  broken  and  his  blood  shed  for 
us. 

We  are  so  constituted  that  the  objects  which  call 
up  one  idea  to  the  mind,  call  up  a  train  of  relative 
and  dependent  ideas.  They  are  often  presented  at 
once,  or  in  a  succession  so  rapid  that  they  cannot 
be  perceived;  and  affect  us  the  more  sensibly  that 
they  come  thus  together,  and  not  by  repeated  efforts 
of  the  mind. 

The  smallest  relic  of  a  once  valued  friend  calls 
up  a  history  to  remembrance  on  which  the  heart, 
however  much  it  may  be  agonized,  delights  to 
dwell. 

It  is  thus  with  the  Lord's  Supper.  These  sym- 
bols are  tokens  of  love  that  were  left  us  by  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  How  visibly  and  impressively 
do  they  bring  to  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  thought- 
ful communicant  the  affecting  history,  the  beneficent 
design,  and  the  momentous  consequences,  of  the 
incarnation  of  his  Lord  and  Saviour !  How  pow- 
erfully do  they  excite  to  feelings  of  sympathy  and 
love  towards  fellow  communicants,  fellow  Chris- 
tians, —  all  mankind  ;  —  to  penitential  sorrow,  and 
resolutions  of  holy  living ! 

In  the  first   ages  of   the   Church,  all  Christian 


231 


believers  were  communicants.  The  Lord's  Supper 
was  a  positive  institution  of  Christianity,  and  it 
would  have  been  deemed  a  great  inconsistency  for 
believers  in  Christianity  to  neglect  any  of  its  insti- 
tution-. 

The  Lord's  Supper  made  a  part  of  the  religious 
service  of  the  first  day  in  the  week.  A  description 
of  this  service  is  given  by  an  early  father  of  the 
Church,  and,  as  it  may  gratify  you,  I  repeat  it. 

4  On  the  day  called  Sunday,  all  of  us  meet  in 
one  place,  where  the  writings  of  the  apostles  and 
prophets  are  read;  exhortations  are  given;  psalms 
and  hymns  are  sung ;  and  we  offer  our  joint  prayers. 
Then  bread  and  wine  are  brought,  and  after  repeat- 
ed prayers  by  the  president,  to  which  the  people 
answer  amen,  it  is  distributed  through  the  congre- 
gation, and  alms  are  collected  for  the  use  of  the 
poor.' 

*  The  reason,'  he  adds,  *  why  we  all  meet  on 
Sunday,  is.  that  this  is  the  first  day  when  GOD 
<•  re; i led  the  world,  and  on  which  our  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ  rose  from  the  dead.' 

Such  was  the  obedience  of  the  first  Christians  to 
the  rules  of  the  Gospel,  though  this  obedience  was 
punishable  with  death. 

As  it  was  in  the  beginning  of  Christianity,  so  it 
should  be  now.  All  Christian  believers  should  be 
communicants,  and  thu<  manifest  their  consistency, 
as  well  as  their  gratitude  and  love  to  Him  whose 
name  they  bear,  by  their  obedience. 

If  love  the  most  disinterested  demands  a  return ; 


232 


if  benefits  the  most  substantial  give  a  claim  to  grati- 
tude ;  if  authority  the  most  exalted  has  a  right  to 
obedience ;  then  is  Jesus  Christ  entitled  to  the  love, 
gratitude,  and  obedience  of  Christians. 

All  those  who  believe  in  Christ,  then,  I  repeat  it, 
should  be  communicants.  It  is  a  public  avowal  of 
their  faith  in  Christ,  and  it  is  fit  that  they  should 
thus  '  confess  him  before  men.'  It  is  an  act  of 
obedience  to  his  positive  command,  —  the  last 
charge  he  left  upon  his  Church  before  he  suffered. 
It  is  an  observance  of  an  institution,  eminently 
adapted  to  promote  the  spiritual  benefit  of  those 
who  observe  it. 

Christian  believers  should  come  to  the  Lord's 
Supper,  not  hastily  and  inconsiderately,  but  with 
serious  preparation  of  heart,  with  deep  repentance 
for  sin,  and  earnest  purposes  of  holy  obedience. 
They  come  to  commemorate  him  who  gave  his  life 
a  sacrifice  for  sin;  and  they  should  come  with  a 
'  godly  sorrow  which  worketh  repentance.'  They 
come  to  commemorate  benefits  of  inestimable 
worth ;  and  they  should  come  with  fervent  gratitude 
and  strong  affection.  They  come  to  commemorate 
the  most  pure  and  holy  Being  that  ever  appeared  on 
earth ;  and  they  should  come  with  the  resolution  to 
transcribe  into  their  own  life,  as  far  as  they  can,  the 
lineaments  of  the  spotless  character  they  are  to 
contemplate  in  this  ordinance. 

Christian  believer !  If  thou  art  not  a  communi- 
cant, reflect,  I  beseech  thee,  on  the  inestimable 
blessings  which  Christianity  has  conferred  upon 


233 


thee,  and  then  ask  thyself,  whether  He,  who  de- 
scended from  ineffable  glory  in  heaven,  and  became  a 
suffering  pilgrim  on  earth  to  bring  thee  these  bless- 
ings,— who  lived  and  died  to  save  thee, — is  not 
entitled  to  thy  obedience,  and  worthy  of  thy 
commemoration  in  this  ordinance  of  his  own  ap- 
pointment. 

Look  ut  thy  condition,  and  contrast  it  with  that 
of  the  benighted  heathen,  the  slave  of  superstition, 
worshipping  the  work  of  his  own  hands,  or  the 
vilest  reptiles,  or  beings  whom  he  has  invested  with 
the  most  terrific  and  disgusting  attributes,  and  whom 
he  seeks  to  appease  by  the  most  degrading  rites. 

Art  thou  a  parent  ?  And  why  is  it  that  thou  art 

'not  doing  violence  to  the  feelings  of  thy  nature  by 

saeri  tiring  thy  children  to   some  imaginary  deity, 

unrelenting,   revengeful,   who  will    be    propitiated 

only  by  the  blood  of  these  innocent  victims  ? 

Art  thou  a  man  ?  And  why  is  it  that  thou  art 
permitted  to  assert  thy  native  dignity,  and  to  culti- 
vate the  noble  powers  with  which  the  Creator  has 
endowed  thee;  and  how  is  it  that  thou  art  enjoying 
the  blessings  of  eivilixation  and  rational  liberty? 

Art  thou  a  woman  ?  And  how  is  it  that  thou 
art  elevated  from  the  low  and  servile  state  in 
which  unenlightened  heathenism  has  placed  thee, 
to  be  the  companion  and  the  friend  of  man  ? 

Art  thou  a  sinner  ?     And  where  dost  thou  find 

thy  hope  of  mercy  ?     Art  thou  the  heir  of  sorrow, 

and  where  dost  thou   look  for  consolation?     Art 

thou  mortal,   and  what    is  it   that  has  dispelled 

20* 


234  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER 

the  darkness  which  enveloped  the  '  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death  ?  '  Art  thou  immortal,  and  where 
hast  thou  learned  thy  nature  and  thy  destiny  ? 

There  is  but  one  answer  to  all  this ;  and  if  thou 
art  faithful  to  thy  own  convictions,  Christian  be- 
liever, it  is  the  answer  thou  wilt  give  to  thyself. 
4  It  is  Christianity  which  has  made  me  to  differ  from 
the  poor  benighted  heathen.  It  is  Christianity 
which  has  elevated  me  to  my  present  condition; 
saved  me  from  doing  cruel  violence  to  the  feelings 
of  my  nature  by  the  immolation  of  my  offspring 
on  the  altar  of  superstition ;  informed  me  how  I 
may  obtain  mercy  and  find  forgiveness ;  opened  to 
me  a  source  of  consolation ;  dispelled  the  darkness 
of  the  grave ;  taught  me  that  I  am  immortal,  and , 
may  aspire  after  an  immortality  of  blessedness.' 

Why  art  thou  not  now,  then,  manifesting  thy 
gratitude  by  thy  obedience?  Why  art  thou  not 
performing  this  service  in  memory  of  Him  who  has 
done  so  much  for  thee  ?  a  service  which  He  himself 
enjoined,  standing,  as  it  were,  on  the* verge  of  the 
grave,  in  the  close  of  a  life  devoted  to  thy  best 
interests ;  the  interests  of  human  kind. 

Hast  thou  received  the  ordinance  of  baptism?' 
Thou  art  then  a  member  of  the  Church  of  Christ, 
and  consistency  requires  of  thee  not  to  neglect  a 
positive  institution  of  that  Church.  Art  thou  con- 
scious of  sin?  Repent  and  come  to  the  Lord's 
table,  that  thou  mayest  be  strengthened  and  con- 
firmed in  thy  repentance. 

Hast  thou  any  fears  of  mysteries  to  alarm  thee  ? 


Come  and  discover  that  there  are  none.  Dost  thou 
suffer  affliction  ?  Come  and  behold  the  sufferings  of 
Him  who  was  *a  man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted 
with  grief,'  and  who  drank  with  meek  submission  a 
cup  of  sorrow,  far  more  bitter  than  can  be  mingled 
for  thee;  and  learn  of  Him  to  be  patient  and 
resigned.  Hast  thou  friends  who  love  thee,  and 
would  do  thee  good?  Come  learn,  more  and 
more,  to  requite  them  by  kind  offices.  Hast  thou 
enemies  who  would  injure  thee?  Come,  and  from 
the  contemplation  of  his  example,  who  on  his  cross 
prayed  for  his  murderers,  learn  to  forgive  and  bless 
them.  Art  thou  happy?  Come  and  testify  thy 
gratitude.  Art  thou  unhappy  ?  Come,  weary  and 
heavy-laden,  to  Him,  who  will  give  thee  rest. 


236 


SERMON  XXXV. 


THE  FOUNDATION  OF    EVERY  ACCEPTABLE  RELIGIOUS 
SERVICE. 

1   Cor.  V.  8. LET    US    KEEP    THE    FKAST,  NOT  WITH  THE    LEAVEN   OF 

MALICE    AND  WICKEDNESS,  BUT  WITH     THE    UNLEAVKNKD  BREAD  OF 
SINCERITY  AND  TRUTH. 

WE  have  in  these  words,  addressed  by  a  Chris- 
tian apostle  to  his  Christian  converts,  the  foundation 
of  every  acceptable  religious  service.  It  does  not 
consist  in  much  or  little  speculative  knowledge  of 
the  doctrines  of  the  gospel;  in  the  manifestation 
of  much  or  little  zeal  in  the  dissemination  of 
Christian  truth ;  in  the  greater  or  smaller  number 
of  our  religious  exercises.  It  does  not  consist  in 
belonging  to  any  one  of  the  numerous  parties  into 
which  the  kingdom  of  Christ  is  divided.  It  is 
found  in  all  these  parties,  and  is  wanting  in  all.  It 
is  sincerity. 

When  we  lift  our  voice  in  prayer  to  GOD,  it  is 
sincerity,  and  this  alone,  which  gives  it  efficacy. 
It  is  not  to  the  language  that  GOD  has  respect.  It 
is  not  to  the  length.  It  is  not  to  the  earnestness  and 


RELIGIOUS    SERVICE.  237 

fervor.  We  may  cull  the  choicest  expressions  :  Hi 
may  dress  up  our  thoughts  in  the  most  beautiful 
language  ;  we  may  utter  a1  multitude  of  words  ;  we 
may  have  a  /nil  which,  like  that  of  the  Psalmist, 
may  seem  to  c  consume  us/  and  all  be  of  no 
avail. 

On  the  contrary,  we  may  use  the  most  homely 
phrases:  we  may  utter  a  single  sentence;  we  may 
breathe  a  sigh;  and  a  prayer  will  go  up  to  Heaven, 
and  return  in  blessings  upon  us. 

The  prayer,  which  is  of  no  avail,  is  the  prayer  of 
thoughtlessness,  or  of  hypocrisy.  The  sacrifice  is 
indeed  laid  upon  the  altar  ;  it  may  be  richly  adorned, 
but  there  is  no  fire  to  consume  it.  The  prayer 
which  is  heard  and  answered,  is  the  prayer  of  sin- 
c>  ritij.  It  is  the  prayer  which  is  offered  under  a 
deep  sense  of  the  greatness  and  majesty  of  GOD, 
and  is  therefore  a  reverent  and  humble  prayer.  It 
is  the  prayer  which  is  offered  with  a  deep  convic- 
tion  of  the  wisdom  of  GOD,  and  is  therefore  a  sub- 
inissivr  prayer.  It  is  the  prayer  which  is  oil'ered 
with  a  lively  sense  of  the  goodness  of  GOD,  and  is 
therefore  a  grateful  prayer.  It  is,  finally,  the  prayer 
which  is  offered  in  the  recollection  of  the  iiiiimie 
purity  and  holiness  of  GOD,  and  His  utter  abhor- 
rence of  .-in.  and  i>  therefore  a  contrite  pr 
AVith  no  other  dispositions  than  these  should  we 
pray,  and,  praying  with  these  dispositions,  we  shall 
not  fail  to  be  heard. 

1  do  not  mean  that  when  we  pray  for  temporal 
blessings,  we  shall  always  receive  what  we  ask. 


238  THE    FOUNDATION     OF     EVERY 

GOD  is  wiser  than  we  are,  and  may  know  that  what 
we  ask  is  not  what  is  best  for  us.  But  I  mean  that 
our  prayers  will  never  be  unavailing,  for  they  will 
bring  us  to  a  nearer  acquaintance  with  GOD, 
secure  to  us  a  larger  portion  of  his  grace  and  favor, 
and  if  our  request  is  denied,  we  shall  be  prepared 
to  submit  and  adore. 

In  every  religious  service  in  which  we  are  en- 
gaged, sincerity  is  equally  important.  We  may 
come  up  to  worship  GOD,  in  the  church,  twice  or 
thrice  on  the  Sabbath,  yes,  every  day  in  the  week  ; 
our  demeanor  may  be  grave  and  serious,  but  with- 
out sincerity  it  will  avail  us  nothing  with  GOD.  <  If 
we  regard  iniquity  in  our  heart,  GOD  will  not  hear 
us.'  The  service  which  is  acceptable,  is  that  of  the 
heart.  '  GOD  is  a  Spirit,  and  they  who  worship  Him 
must  worship  Him  in  spirit  and  in  truth.' 

I  mention  one  other  service,  and  it  is  that  to 
which  our  text  may  appear  to  have  special  refer- 
ence, the  service  which  is  commemorative  of  our 
Saviour's  death.  In  this,  as  in  every  other,  it  is 
sincerity  alone  which  constitutes  its  value  in  the 
sight  of  GOD.  It  is  not  our  assent,  —  with  the 
fullest  persuasion  of  its  truth,  —  to  the  longest  creed 
that  has  ever  been  written.  It  is  not  our  detail, 
with  whatever  minuteness,  of  our  religious  experi- 
ences ;  it  is  not  our  solemnity ;  it  is  not  our  tears  ; 
which  make  us  worthy  communicants.  It  is  our 
coming  from  a  conviction  that  it  is  our  duty  to 
come,  in  obedience  to  the  will  of  Christ,  and  in 
commemoration  of  Him.  It  is  our  coming  with 


ACCEPTABLE    RELIGIOUS    SERVICE.  239 

sorrow  for  our  past  sins,  and  with  resolutions  of 
amendment.  It  is  our  coming  with  gratitude  for 
our  spiritual  bit -.— mirs,  and  with  a  resolution,  by  the 
grace  of  GOD,  to  improve  them.  In  this,  —  I  re- 
peat,—  as  in  every  other  service,  it  is  sincerity  alone 
which  constitutes  its  value  in  the  sight  of  GOD. 
Without  the  dispositions  I  have  mentioned,  we 
should  not  come.  With  these  dispositions  we  may 
come,  and  shall  come  with  acceptance.  There  is 
nothing  to  repel  the  approach  of  any  one  who  has 
a  sincere  desire  to  honor  and  obey  the  Saviour. 
For  such  there  is  a  place  provided,  and  we  will  bid 
them  welcome. 

Are  they  sensible  of  unworthiness  ?  So  are  we.  Are 
1 1 11  •  y  surrounded  by  temptations  in  the  world  ?  So  are 
we.  And  therefore  we  have  come  ;  and  therefore  we 
bid  them  come  also.  Sensible  that  we  are  sinners,  we 
come  to  Chri>t,  the  Saviour  of  sinners.  Sensible 
of  the  temptations  of  the  world,  we  come  to  the  in- 
stitution GOD  has  appointed,  that  we  may  acquire 
additional  strength  to  meet  and  overcome  these 
temptations.  It  is  one  of  the  means  which  GOD 
has  appointed  to  make  us  better,  and  we  thankfully 
use  it.  We  are  sure  it  will  do  us  no  harm.  It  is 
our  hope  and  our  prayer  that  it  may  do  us  good. 

In  this  hope,  in  regard  to  our  fellow  Christians, 
who  desire  to  be  better,  and  are  laboring  by  the 
grace  of  GOD,  to  become  so,  we  invite  them  to  join 
with  us  in  this  memorial  of  our  common  Lord.  We 
desire  only  sincerity;  a  sincere  purpose  of  holy 
obedience.  Of  this  sincerity,  we  are  not  conslitii- 


240  THE    FOUNDATION     OF    EVERY 

ted  the  judges.  There  may  be  a  pompous  profes- 
sion which  is  hollow  and  insincere ;  and  on  the 
other  hand,  there  may  be  a  silent,  unostentatious 
performance  of  duty,  which  has  the  sanction  of 
conscience,  and  the  approbation  of  GOD. 

They  take  upon  themselves  a  fearful  responsibil- 
ity who,  by  creeds  and  confessions,  by  forms  and 
ceremonies,  by  any  mode  of  human  device,  prevent 
a  single  sincere  conscientious  Christian  from  com- 
plying with  the  dying  injunction  of  his  Lord  and 
Master.  What !  Shall  the  command  to  do  this  be 
given  by  the  Saviour,  and  reiterated  by  his  apostles, 
and  shall  a  Christian  minister,  or  a  Christian 
church,  assume  and  exercise  the  right  of  prevent- 
ing a  humble  believer  from  obeying  this  com- 
mand ?  On  whom,  in  this  case,  will  the  blame 
of  disobedience  rest?  Not  on  him,  surely,  who 
comes,  with  every  appearance  of  sincerity,  and 
asks  for  admission,  and  is  forbidden.  No !  But 
on  those  who  forbid. 

I  have  said  that  sincerity  is  required ;  and  sin- 
cerity implies  an  earnest  endeavor  to  be,  and  to  do, 
all  that  our  religion  demands  of  us.  If  we  have  not 
yet  attained  to  the  full  position  of  this  desire,  it  is 
not  a  reason  for  our  keeping  back  from  the  Lord's 
Supper.  It  is  a  reason  for  our  coming,  that  we 
may  avail  ourselves  of  the  influence  which  this  or- 
dinance is  adapted  to  exert  on  our  character  and 
conduct. 

When  our  Saviour  first  gave  it  to  his  disciples, 
he  knew  that  they  were  far  from  having  attained. 


ACCEPTABLE    RELIGIOUS    SERVICE.  241 

He  knew  that  they  would  all  desert  him  when  he 
stood  most  in  need  of  their  sympathy,  and  that  one 
of  them  would  disown  him ;  but  he  gave  them 
these  memorials  in  token  of  his  affection,  as  the 
future  means  of  reminding  them  of  their  ingratitude, 
and  of  prompting  them  to  watchfulness  and  prayer. 
St.  Paul,  too,  reprehends  the  conduct  of  his  Co- 
rinthian converts  whilst  partakin!_r.  in  an  irreverent, 
unworthy  manner,  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  for  they 
made  it  a  drunken  and  riotous  feast ;  but  he  does 
not  forbid  their  participation  of  it.  He  would  have 
them  partake  with  seriousness,  and  self-exami- 
nation. *  Let  a  man  examine  himself,  and  so  let 
him  eat  of  that  bread  and  drink  of  that  cup.' 

I.      us  examine   ourselves,  Christian  communi- 
.     '  Let  us  keep  the  feast,  not  with  the  leaven 
of  malice  and  wickedness,  but  with  the  unleavened 
bread  of  sincerity  and  //•/////.'     Amen  ! 


VOL.  II.  21 


242 


SERMON    XXXYI. 

THANKSGIVING. 
Psalms  1.  14.  —  OFFER  UNTO  GOD  THANKSGIVING. 

THE  various  duties  of  religion  are  not  equally  easy 
to  be  fulfilled.  They  require  more  or  less  exertion  ; 
higher  or  lower  degress  of  fortitude  and  resolution, 
greater  or  smaller  sacrifices,  according  to  the  differ- 
ent circumstances  in  which  we  are  placed. 

Sometimes  there  is  a  favorite  passion  to  be  sub- 
dued, which  often  appears  to  '  gain  fresh  strength 
from  fresh  opposition,'  and  therefore  requires  un- 
wearied attention,  and  new  and  painful  efforts. 

Sometimes  there  is  an  injury  to  be  forgiven  which 
has  mortified  our  pride,  and  wounded  our  sense  of 
honor;  an  enemy  to  be  loved  and  regarded  as  a 
brother,  although  the  heart  may,  at  first,  revolt 
against  him,  and  we  are  promptgd  to  turn  away 
from  him  in  horror. 

Sometimes  the  dearest  wordly  interests,  —  pro- 
perty, liberty,  life,  —  are  to  be  immolated  on  the 
altar  of  religion. 

It  is  no  such  trial  of  fortitude,  and  forbearance, 
and  self-command,  it  is  no  such  relinquishment  of 
our  worldly  interests,  that  is  now  required  at  our 
hands ;  although  when  religion  calls,  even  for  such 


THANKSGIVING.  243 

exertions,  and  such  sacrifices,  we  must  be  ready  to 
make  them,  and,  however  painful  the  effort,  it  will 
be  abundantly  compensated  by  the  reward. 

We  come  here  to-day,  my  hearers,  to  perform  a 
duty  at  once  natural  and  delightful;  to  offer, on  the 
altar  of  gratitude,  the  oblation  of  grateful  hearts. 

Yes,  for  it  is  not  the  voice  of  authority,  merely, 
that  bids  us  open  our  churches,  and  enter  to  pay  our 
vows  at  the  shrine  of  gratitude.  It  is  the  voice 
that  speaks  within  us,  and  tells  us  what  we  are; 
and  what  we  have;  and  what  we  hope;  and  bids 
us  acknowledge,  with  humble,  fervent  adoration, 
that  all  is  of  GOD. 

Childhood,  as  it  sports  in  happy  thoughtlessness, 
has  been  taught  to  think  of  GOD  who  makes  it  hap- 
py. Youth,  as  it  treads  the  path  of  knowledge  and 
listens  to  the  voice  of  instruction,  is  taught  to  think 
of  GOD  who  gives  it  the  power  to  be  wise.  Man- 
hood, as,  with  thoughtful,  anxious  brow,  it  toils  in 
its  vocation,  remembers  GOD,  who  crowns  its  labors 
with  his  blessing.  Old  age,  as  it  bends  its  feeble 
steps  to  the  grave,  remembers  GOD  who  has  *  car- 
ried it  even  to  gray  hairs,'  and  has  not  failed  it 
when  its  strength  has  failed. 

And  childhood,  and  youth,  and  manhood,  and  old 
age  come  up  together  to  pour  their  votive  offering 
on  religion's  altar. 

I  would  fain  believe  that  it  is  the  impulse  of  the 
heart  which  brings  them  hither,  and  bids  them  trace 
the  hallowed  footsteps  of  their  fathers  to  the  house 
of  GOD. 


244 


THANKSGIVING. 


They  are  here,  expecting,  perhaps,  to  have  their 
emotions  portrayed  in  language,  and  brought  home 
again  to  their  bosoms  with  renewed  and  quickened 
energy. 

But  how  shall  this  expectation  be  answered  ?  The 
full  heart  cannot  utter  its  own  feelings,  and  how  can 
it  describe  the  feelings  of  others  ? 

It  can  <  muse  in  silence,  and  the  fire  will  burn,' 
but  cannot  speak  of  all  that  GOD  has  done  for  itself 
and  for  those  whom  it  would  impress  with  a  deeper 
sense  of  obligation. 

Language  is  too  imperfect  and  feeble,  —  the  lan- 
guage of  angels  is  too  imperfect  and  feeble,  —  to  tell 
the  number  or  value  of  the  benefits  of  GOD. 

It  is  a  love  unspeakable,  inconceivable,  that  has 
been  manifested  in  our  creation ;  in  the  preservation 
of  life  and  in  its  innumerable  blessings ;  and,  above 
all, — far  above  all,  —  in  the  redemption  that  has 
been  wrought  out  for  us  through  the  mediation  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

Nature,  with  her  unnumbered  tongues,  proclaims 
through  all  her  works,  the  goodness  of  her  Author ; 
but  religion  speaks  it  in  tones  of  yet  deeper  inter- 
est. '  HE  spared  not  His  own  Son,  but  gave  him 
up  to  the  death  for  us  all.  And  He  that  spared  not 
his  own  Son,  shah1  he  not  with  Him  also  freely  give 
us  all  things  ? ' 

Look  within  you,  intelligent,  immortal  beings,  and 
by  the  light  which  GOD  has  kindled  in  your  breasts, 
read  your  obligations. 

Look  around  you,  objects  of  the  Divine  care  and 


THANKSGIVING.  245 

kindness,  and  in  the  rich  provision  that  is  made  for 
your  happiness,  read  your  obligations. 

Look  above  you,  Christians,  candidates  for  the 
heavenly  glory,  and  in  the  hopes  which  religion  in- 
spires, in  the  prospects  which  religion  unfolds,  read 
your  obligations. 

In  your  deliverance  from  danger  and  calamity; 
in  your  restoration  from  sickness  and  distress ;  in 
the  consolation  which  has  been  imparted  to  you  in 
the  hour  of  sorrow ;  in  the  brightness  of  that  favor 
which  has  dispelled  the  gloom  that  surrounded  you  ; 
in  the  prosperity  of  your  handiwork,  and  the  blessing 
which  has  been  vouchsafed  upon  your  honest  in- 
dustry ;  in  your  family  enjoyments,  and  the  heart- 
felt comfort  arising  from  the  closer  and  more  endear- 
ing connections  of  life ;  in  the^assistance  you  have 
received  from  others,  and  in  the  benefits  by  which 
you  have  been  enabled  to  repay  them ;  read  your 
obligations. 

You  may  feel  them  in  every  sensation.  You 
may  hear  them  in  every  breath.  Every  sensation 
should  be  a  grateful  one,  and  every  breath  should 
be  praise  to  GOD. 

Look  abroad  upon  the  earth,  my  hearers,  and 
contrast  your  condition  with  the  condition  of  those 
who  are  enveloped  in  the  darkness  of  heathenism; 
or  covered  with  the  sable  mantle  of  superstition ;  or 
groaning  under  the  yoke  of  tyranny  ;  or  subjected 
to  hard  and  burdensome  exactions  which  deprive 
them  of  a  large  portion  of  the  hard-earned  fruits  of 
their  labor. 

21* 


246 


THANKSGIVING 


Then  look  back  upon  your  own  condition,  enjoy- 
ing the  benign  light  of  Christianity ;  possessed  of  a 
free  constitution ;  and  scarcely  sensible  of  the  bur- 
then of  sustaining  the  government  which  protects 
you,  and  the  administration  of  the  laws  which 
secure  to  you  the  possession  of  your  rights  and 
privileges. 

Again  look  round  upon  the  earth ;  and  compare 
your  condition  with  the  condition  of  those  who  are 
enduring  the  miseries  of  war;  the  bare  recital  of 
which  is  enough  to  freeze  the  blood,  and  harrow  up 
the  soul. 

Behold  a  Christian  nation,  associated  with  our 
earliest  and  most  interesting  recollections;  among 
whom  the  first  of  uninspired  poets  sang,  the 
most  eloquent  of  orators  declaimed  ;  and  the  chief 
of  the  apostles  taught  the  knowledge  of  the  only 
true  GOD,  struggling  to  break  the  yoke  of  bondage, 
and  resume  their  rank  among  the  nations  of  the 
earth,  but  struggling  as  yet  in  vain.  Their  country 
laid  waste  ;  its  inhabitants  butchered,  or  worse  than 
butchered,  —  the  victims  of  lust  and  avarice. 

Who  can  read  without  shuddering,  the  fate  of 
Scio  and  Cyprus  ?  Who,  without  indignation,  can 
hear  this  Christian  people  lifting  up  their  supplicat- 
ing voice  for  help,  and  not  one  Christian  arm  ex- 
tended for  their  defence  and  rescue  ? 

From  this  scene  of  horror  turn  your  view  to  your- 
selves ;  and  how  great  is  the  contrast ! 

Instead  of  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  and  the 
alarm  of  war ;  scenes  of  blood  and  carnage ;  villages 


THANKSGIVING  '2  17 

in  flames,  and  fruitful  fields  converted  into  a  barren, 
friirln  ful  waste  ;  you  hear  the  sounds  of  busy  indus- 
try; witness  the  peaceful  scenes  of  domestic  com- 
fort; behold  hamlets  increasing  into  villages;  villages 
rising  into  cities;  and  the  hand  of  cultivation  chang- 
ing  the  barren  waste  into  a  fruitful  field. 

Confine  your  intention  to  your  own  country,  and 
contrast  your  condition  with  that  of  those  on  whom 
are  entailed  the  evils  of  slavery ;  a  miserable  inherit- 
ance to  the  enslaver,  and  a  monstrous  injustice  and 
cruelty  to  the  enslaved;  an  institution  which  disre- 
LT  i  rd  s  the  tenderest  charities  of  life ;  sets  at  nought  the 
most  sacred  relationships,  —  if,  indeed,  they  be  per- 
mit ted  to  exist  at  all ;  and,  deaf  to  the  cries  of  nature 
pleading  for  forbearance  and  compassion,  ruthlessly 
tears  asunder  husband  and  wife,  parent  and  child, 
to  be  bought  and  sold,  and  driven  about  like  the 
beasts  of  the  field. 

I  have  visited  the  land  of  slavery,  and  I  deem  it 
appropriate  in  this  connection,  and  on  this  day  of 
thanksgiving,  to  repeat  a  part  of  what  I  said  to  you 
on  my  return  from  that  visit. 

"  I  have  travelled  through  a  country  which  exhib- 
its much  that  is  sublime  and  beautiful;  with  a  cli- 
mate milder  than  ours  ;  a  rich,  luxuriant  soil ;  and 
inhabited  by  a  people  intelligent  and  hospitable? 
but  I  have  returned  contented,  far  more  than  con- 
tented, to  our  blessed  New  England,  —  though  cold 
its  climate  and  hard  its  soil,  —  whose  fields  are 
sown  and  tilled,  and  reaped  by  the  hands  of  free- 
men. 


248  THANKSGIVING. 

"  I  have  witnessed  many  of  the  evils  and  miseries, 
though  by  no  means  all  the  horrors  of  slavery ;  its 
deleterious  effect  on  the  intellectual  and  moral  pow- 
ers ;  its  debasing,  palsying  influence  on  the  energies 
of  the  body  and  the  mind. 

"  I  have  witnessed  the  consequent  imperfect,  mis- 
erable cultivation  of  the  soil,  and  the  destitution  of 
those  comforts  which  are  enjoyed  by  our  hardy  and 
industrious  yeomanry. 

"  I  have  witnessed,  too,  what  is  certainly  a  con- 
comitant, if  it  be  not  a  result,  of  the  unwise  and 
unrighteous  institution  to  which  I  have  referred.  I 
mean  the  evils  of  the  want  of  a  proper  system  of 
education ;  of  the  establishment  of  parochial  schools, 
and  the  means  of  early  instruction  which  we  pos- 
sess. 

"  Above  all,  I  have  seen  and  felt  the  want  of  the 
means  of  religious  instruction ;  of  the  public  insti- 
tutions of  religion ;  —  or  rather  the  scanty  measure 
in  which  they  are  enjoyed  through  the  extensive 
country  I  have  visited. 

"  How  much  did  I  miss,  in  my  journeying,  the 
4  heaven  directed  spire,'  which  adds  so  much  to  the 
interest  and  beauty  of  New  England  scenery ;  and 
denotes  the  observance  of  rites  which  are  essential 
to  the  real  welfare  of  any  people. 

"  If  there  is  a  sceptic  among  you  as  to  the 
important  uses  and  value  of  public  worship,  I 
should  want  no  better  means  for  his  conviction 
than  to  place  him  where  they  are  not  enjoyed. 

I  have  mentioned  these  things,  my  hearers,  not 


THANKSGIVING.  249 

surely  to  institute  an  invidious  comparison,  but  to 
excite  emotions  of  gratitude  to  Him  'who  has 
made  us*  thus  *  to  differ'  from  our  less  favored 
brethren.  They  are  evils  which  the  wise  and  good 
among  them  much  deplore.  Let  us  not  forget  that 
to  whomsoever  much  is  given,  from  them  will  much 
be  required." 

Once  more.  Look  at  the  condition  of  those, 
whether  at  home,  or  abroad,  who  are  subject  to  the 
visitations  of  'the  pestilence  that  walketh  in  dark- 
ness, and  the  destruction  that  wasteth  at  noonday ;' 
and  then  turn  to  your  own  condition,  breathing  a 
pure  and  wholesome  atmosphere,  and  exempt,  in  a 
great  measure,  from  the  influence  of  those  malig- 
nant diseases  to  which  they  are  subjected. 

Author  of  our  Being!  Giver  of  all  our  blessings! 
Accept  our  grateful  thanks.  Fill  us  with  a  livelier 
sense  of  thy  mercies,  and  help  us,  more  and  more, 
to  live  to  thy  glory. 

Thus,  my  hearers,  in  the  recognition  of  past  and 
nt  mercies;  in  the  anticipation  of  higher  good  ; 
and  in  the  exercise  of  grateful  emotions,  should  we 
spend  this  day. 

Blessed    day!    for   all  the    recollections    it    has 

awakened,  and  all  the  devotion  it  has  kindled,  and 

all    the   happiness  it  has  brought  with  it,  and  will 

still   awaken   and    kindle  and   brim,'  with   it,   till    it 

es  to  be  numbered  with  the  days  of  the  year. 

blessed  day  !  It  brings  with  it  too  many  person- 
al recollections,  too  many  associations  intimately 
blended  with  our  tenderer  feelings,  —  entwined 


250 


THANKSGIVING. 


about  the  closest  fibres  of  the  heart ;  not  to  be  re- 
garded with  deep  interest,  whether  it  come  in  joy, 
or  whether  it  come  in  sadness.  With  it  may  come 
the  living,  on  whom  affection  reposes,  and  with  it 
must  come  the  departed,  on  whom  memory  dwells. 

It  is  the  day,  of  all  the  days  in  the  year,  which 
brings  together  the  past  and  the  present ;  the  days 
that  now  are,  and  the  days  that  have  long  gone  by ; 
the  friends  with  whom  we  still  hold  converse,  and 
the  friends  with  whom  our  spirits  only  can  mingle. 

Blessed  day !  Our  fathers  honored  it,  and  we 
will  honor  it.  Our  fathers  rejoiced  in  it,  and  we 
will  rejoice  in  it.  Our  fathers  hallowed  it,  and  we 
will  consecrate  it  to  the  purposes  of  thanksgiving. 
Children  and  youth !  even  now,  though  with  me 
the  frolicsome  days  of  childhood  and  the  ardent, 
glowing  season  of  youth  are  past,  I  sympathize 
with  you  in  your  happiness  on  the  return  of  this 
day. 

Be  thankful  if  you  are  permitted  to  enjoy  it  with 
your  parents  and  those  who  are  most  dear  to  you  ; 
and  when  you  are  older,  —  if  GOD  should  spare  you 
to  be  older,  —  and  those  parents  are  no'  longer  with 
you,  be  thankful  for  the  sources  of  happiness  you 
may  then  possess,  as  well  as  for  those  which,  if  you 
have  been  virtuous,  memory  will  bring  to  you. 

Be  careful  so  to  spend  your  early  and  mature  life 
that  you  may  look  back  upon  those  days,  and  call 
up  those  friends  to  remembrance,  without  the  pangs 
of  self-reproach. 

And  may  we  all  thus  be  thankful.     By  the  piety 


THANKSGIV1V-.  '.!">  I 

of  our  lives,  may  we  all  testify  our  gratitude  to 
HIM  who  has  i^ivcu  us  life,  and  crowned  it  with  His 
mrrcy. 

Offer  unto  God  thanksgiving*. 

Norshould  this  brail.  Piety  should  bring  its  offer- 
ing of  charity,  and  diffuse  the  happiness  for  which  it 
renders  praise.  Grateful  itself  for  the  blessings  of 
an  indulgent  Providence,  it  should  give  to  others,  as 
far  as  may  be,  the  same  motives  of  thankfulness 
which  itself  possesses.  If  it  is  truly  grateful,  it  will 
not  tail  to  do  so. 

'  The  poor,'  said  that  compassionate  Saviour 
whose  office  and  delight  it  was  to  do  good,  —  to 
lighten  the  burthens,  and  soothe  the  sorrows  of  the 
heavy  laden, — *  the  poor  ye  have  always  with  you  ;' 
and  in  saying  this,  he  spoke  volumes  to  the  heart 
of  sensibility,  or  rather  to  the  heart  that  feels  its 
obligations  and  responsibility  as  a  Christian. 

Go,  then,  my  people,  seek  for  the  abodes  of 
misery ;  bind  up  the  broken-hearted ;  smooth  the 
pillow  of  sickness,  and  bear  up  the  departing  spirit 
on  the  wings  of  your  prayers. 

Go,  *  eat  the  bread,  and  drink  the  sweet,  and  send 
a  portion  to  them  who  have  nothing.' 

But,  ere  you  go,  leave  here  your  gift  before  the 
altar,  and  then  go  and  perform  these  works  of  mercy. 

Let  that  gift  be  as  large  and  generous  as  your 
circumstances  will  permit.  It  will  not  be  misap- 
plied. I  pledge  myself  that  it  will  not  be  misap- 
plied. 

It  will  open  a  stream  which  will  flow  in  upon  the 


252 


THANKSGIVING, 


dry  and  barren  soil  of  indigence,  and  refresh  and 
make  it  fruitful.  It  will  shed  a  gleam  of  comfort 
upon  hearts  which  have  few  such  gleams  to  cheer 
them.  And  it  will  come  back  to  you  in  the  sweet 
consciousness  of  well-doing.  It  will  come  back  to 
you  in  the  remembrance  of  the  happiness  you  have 
conferred.  It  will  come  back  to  you  in  the  appro- 
bation of  HIM  who,  having  heard  the  sigh  of  the 
miserable,  has  witnessed  the  bounty  which  con- 
verted it  into  an  ascription  of  thanksgiving. 


SERMON    XXXVII. 


ON  TAKING  THOUGHT  FOR  THE  MORROW. 
Matthew  vi.  25,  26,  28,  29,  30,  31.  — TIIEREFOKE  i  SAT  UNTO  YOU, 

TAKE  NO  THOUGHT  FOR  YOUR  LIFE,  WHAT  YE  SHALL  EAT,  OR  WHAT 
YE  SHALL  DRINK  ;  NOR  YET  FOR  YOUR  BODY,  WHAT  YE  SHALL  PUT 
ON.  IS  NOT  THE  LIFE  MORE  THAN  MEAT,  AND  THE  BODY  THAN 
RAIMENT  ? 

BEHOLD  THE  FOWLS  OF  THE  AIR  :  FOR  THEY  SOW  NOT,  NEITHER  DO 
THKV  REAP,  NOR  GATHER  INTO  BARNS}  YET  YOUR  HEAVENLT 
FATHER  FEEDETH  THEM.  ARE  YE  NOT  MUCH  BETTER  THAN  THEY  ? 

AND  WHY  TAKE  YE  THOUGHT  FOR  RAIMENT  ?  CONSIDER  THE  LILIES 
OF  THE  FIELD,  HOW  THEY  GROW  J  THEY  TOIL  NOT,  NEITHER  DO 
THEY  SPIN. 

i    I  SAY  INTO  YOU,  THAT   EVEN  SOLOMON  IN  ALL  HIS  GLORY  WAS 
NOT  ARRAY  t:i>  I. IKK  ONE  OF  THESE. 

WHKI:I-:EORE  IF  GOD  so  CLOTHE  THE  GRASS  OF  THE  FIELD,  WHICH  TO- 
DAY IS,  AND  TO-MORROW  IS  CAST  INTO  THE  OVEN,  SHALL  HE  NOT 
MUCH  MORE  CLOTHE  YOU,  O  YE  OF  LITTLE  FAITH  ? 

THEREFORE  TAKE  NO  THOUGHT,  SAYING  WHAT  SHALL  WE  EAT  ?  OR, 
WHAT  SHALL  WE  DRINK  ?  OR,  WHEREWITHAL  SHALL  WE  BE  CLOTHED  ? 

THERE  are  a  few  passages  in  the  New  Testament 
which  appear  to  inculcate  an  entire  dependence 
upon  Providence,  —  without  any  exertion  of  our 
own,  —  for  the  supply  of  our  temporal  wants.  The 
injunction  is  without  any  qualification  :  *  Take  no 
thought  for  your  life,  what  ye  shall  eat,  or  what  ye 

VOL.  ii.  28 


254       ON    TAKING    THOUGHT    FOR    THE    MORROW. 

shall  drink ;  nor  yet  for  your  body,  what  ye  shall 
put  on.' 

These  passages  have  often  been  misunderstood 
and  perverted.  They  have  sometimes  furnished 
indolence  an  excuse  for  neglecting  to  make  provis- 
ion for  the  future  ;  or  misguided  zeal  with  a  reason 
for  the  same  improvidence. 

Happily  for  them,  others  have  not  felt  themselves 
bound  to  so  literal  a  compliance  with  the  precept ; 
or  they  would  soon  have  felt  the  truth  of  the 
apostle's  warning,  '  HE  THAT  WILL  NOT  WORK,  NEI- 
THER SHALL  HE  EAT.' 

To  many  serious  minds,  these  injunctions  have 
occasioned  uneasiness  and  perplexity.  The  requi- 
sition was  positive,  yet  impracticable.  How  far 
must  it  be  followed,  and  how  far  could  obedience 
with  safety  be  dispensed  with  ?  To  sceptical  minds 
they  have  furnished  food  for  ridicule ;  or,  at  least, 
weapons  for  assailing  the  truth  of  revelation. 

Let  not  the  idle  and  indolent  imagine  that  they 
have  any  foundation  in  these  passages  whereon  to 
build  their  hopes  of  exemption  from  labor. 

Let  not  the  serious  be  apprehensive  whilst  they 
are  seeking  for  a  competence,  or  even  wealth,  in  the 
path  of  virtuous  industry,  that  they  are  acting  in 
opposition  to  the  precepts  of  their  Saviour,  and  the 
will  of  their  GOD, 

Let  not  the  sceptical  suppose  that  they  have 
found  in  these  instructions  weapons  for  assailing, 
or  instruments  for  undermining  the  truth  of  our 
religion.  No.  The  explanation  of  these  passages 


ON  TAKING  THOUGHT  FOR  THE  MORROW. 


255 


is  easy  and  satisfactory.  They  may  be  understood 
literally,  without  any  impeachment  of  the  wisdom 
of  their  Author  or  His  divine  authority. 

The  fact  is,  that  with  their  original  interpretation 
we  have  no  concern.  They  were  not  addressed  to 
us,  but  to  the  immediate  disciples  of  our  Lord ;  a 
part  of  whom,  at  least,  had  already  been  selected 
to  preach  his  gospel,  and  their  circumstances  were 
very  different  from  ours.  *  And  seeing  the  multi- 
tude, he  went  up  into  a  mountain ;  and  when 
he  was  set,  his  disciples  came  unto  him,  and  he 
taught  them? 

They  were  going  forth  to  propagate  a  new  relig- 
ion. It  was  important  that  they  should  give  their 
entire,  undivided  attention  to  the  work.  At  first, 
they  were  not  to  be  stationary,  but  were  to  go  about 
from  place  to  place  to  sow  the  seeds  of  divine  truth ; 
in  the  faith  that,  if  'some  seed  fell  by  the  way- 
side,' and  *  some  in  stony  places/  and  l  some  among 
thorns,  yet  some  would  assuredly  l  fall  into  the  good 
soil  of  an  honest  heart,  and  germinate,  and  bring 
forth  fruit.' 

They  were  to  give  themselves  wholly  to  the  work. 
They  would,  therefore,  have  no  opportunity  to  labor 
for  their  subsistence ;  and  they  could  not  be  careful 
about  the  means  of  subsistence,  without  a  desertion, 
so  far,  of  their  sacred  employment. 

They  had  *  cast  away  their  fishing  nets,'  and  were 
going  forth  to  be  '  fishers  of  men.'  They  had  re- 
linquished the  prospect  of  worldly  wealth,  —  if  they 
ever  enjoyed  it,  —  and  were  to  look  for  a  reversion 
in  heaven. 


256 


ON  TAKING  THOUGHT  FOR  THE  MORROW. 


HE  who  sent  them  out  on  an  errand  of  love  and 
mercy,  would  make  provision  for  the  supply  of  their 
wants. 

As  HE  required  them  to  be  sequestered  entirely 
from  the  busy  concerns  of  the  world ;  they  were  en- 
couraged to  cast  themselves  upon  the  protection  and 
support  of  His  Providence. 

HE  heard  the  ravens  cry,  and  cared  for  the  fowls 
of  the  air ;  and  would  '  He  not  much  more  care  for 
them,'  intelligent,  immortal  beings,  engaged  in  His 
service  ? 

The  plants  of  the  earth,  the  lilies  of  the  field  were 
warmed  into  life  by  His  sun,  and  were  nourished 
by  the  dews  and  the  rain  from  heaven,  and  how 
much  were  they  better  than  these ! 

Yes,  HE  who  commissioned  them,  would  provide 
for  them.  The  workman  was  worthy  of  his  meat ; 
and  care  would  be  taken  that  that  meat  should  be 
given  him. 

In  this  confidence,  they  went  forth  without  hesi- 
tation. And  well  they  might;  for  the  same  voice 
which  warned  them  that  they  were  to  '  go  as  sheep 
among  wolves,'  addressed  them  in  the  soothing 
language  of  encouragement.  '  Fear  not,  little  flock, 
it  is  your  Father's  good  pleasure  to  give  you  the 
kingdom.' 

It  is  thus  that  we  are  to  understand  the  passages 
to  which  I  have  referred,  and  with  which  our  text 
is  connected.  The  common  explanation  that  our 
Saviour  did  not  mean  that  they  should  be  inter- 
preted literally,  is  not  satisfactory.  The  language 


ON  TAKING  THOUGHT  FOR  THE  MORROW.   257 

is  as  explicit  as  language  can  be ;  and  the  circum- 
stances vindicate  its  propriety. 

It  is  true,  that  in  some  of  the  passages  the  origi- 
nal  will  perhaps  admit  of  a  different  translation. 
4  Take  no  thought  for  the  morrow,'  for  example, 
might  perhaps  have  been  rendered  *  take  no  anxious, 
distressing  thought;'  for  the  words  maybe  under- 
stood as  implying  restless  solicitude  ;  and  '  to-mor- 
row '  may  be  interpreted  according  to  the  Eastern 
phrase,  as  meaning  all  the^  time  to  come,  however 
distant. 

There  is  often  a  force  in  the  original  which  can- 
not be  given  in  our  language  without  using  terms 
which  convey  a  still  stronger  meaning. 

When  our  Saviour  would  express  the  far  greater 
strength  of  the  affection  which  must  be  felt  for  him 
than  even  for  a  parent,  he  uses  a  phrase,  which,  in 
the  translation,  conveys  a  very  different  meaning 
from  that  which  he  intended  to  convey.  l  Except 
a  man  hate  his  father  and  mother,  he  cannot  be  my 
disciple.' 

In  the  passage  we  are  now  considering,  it  is 
evident  that  our  Saviour  intended  his  disciples  to 
understand  that  they  were  to  cast  themselves  and 
their  cares  on  GOD.  They  were  to  *  take  no  money 
in  their  purse,  neither  two  coats,  neither  shoes  nor 
yet  staves.' 

In  the  spirit  of  the  injunction  we  are  doubtless 
to  find  a  lesson  of  moral  instruction  for  ourselves. 

To  us  they  must  be  understood  as  forbidding  the 
care  about  the  future  which  is  attended  with  dis- 
22* 


258   ON  TAKING  THOUGHT  FOR  THE  MORROW. 

trust,  uneasiness  and  despondence.  Such  a  care  as 
engrosses,  dejects,  and  distracts  the  mind.  It  forbids 
also  a  vain  and  useless  curiosity  about  the  issues  of 
things  which  are  in  the  hands  of  GOD.  It  forbids 
that  provision  for  the  present  world  which  would 
make  us  forget  that  we  were  designed  for  another. 

The  religion  of  the  Bible  is  a  liberal,  enlightened 
system.  It  recommends  a  stated  abstraction  from 
the  business  of  life  ;  the  consecration  of  the  seventh 
part  of  our  time,  as  much  as  possible,  to  the  special 
duties  of  religion.  It  recommends  retirement  from 
the  world,  for  the  purpose  of  self-examination,  and 
the  exercise  of  those  pious  affections  which  are  due 
to  our  GOD  ;  but  it  does  not  require  that  the  exer- 
cises of  piety,  usually  so  called,  shall  constitute  our 
whole,  or  even  chief  employment. 

It  addresses  itself  to  men  as  engaged  in  the  busi- 
ness of  active  life  ;  sanctions  their  honest  employ- 
ments by  its  inculcations  to  industry,  whilst,  at  the 
same  time,  it  admonishes  them  to  carry  into  every 
employment  the  fear  of  GOD. 

The  interpretation  I  have  given  of  this  discourse 
of  our  Saviour  is  strengthened,  indeed  I  may 
say  confirmed,  by  the  passage  in  St.  Luke,  where 
a  part  of  these  admonitions  to  his  disciples  is 
repeated. 

Our  Saviour  illustrates  and  enforces  his  admoni- 
tions to  his  disciples,  by  pointing  their  attention  to 
the  fowls  of  heaven,  and  the  flowers  of  the  field. 
'  Behold  the  fowls  of  the  air ;  for  they  sow  not, 
neither  do  they  reap,  nor  gather  into  barns ;  yet  your 


ON    TAKING    THOUGHT    FOR    THE    MORROW.       259 

Heavenly  Father  feedeth  them.     Are  ye  not  much 

better  Th:ill   thr\    > 

•  And  why  take  ye  thought  for  raiment?  Con- 
sider the  lilies  of  the  field,  how  they  grow;  they  toil 
not,  neither  do  they  spin.  And  yet  I  say  unto  you, 
that  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not  arrayed  like 
one  of  these.  Wherefore  if  GOD  so  clothe  the  grass 
of  the  field,  which  to-day  is  and  to-morrow  is  cast 
into  the  oven,  shall  he  not  much  more  clothe  you, 
O  ye  of  little,  faith  ?  Therefore  take  no  thought, 
saying  what  shall  we  eat?  or  what  shall  we  drink? 
or  wherewithal  shall  we  be  clothed  ? ' 

In  the  same  school  of  nature,  we  may  read  lec- 
tures of  heavenly  wisdom,  and  gain  improvement 
in  the  virtues  of  the  Christian  life.  We  may  learn 
dependence  on  Providence  and  gratitude.  We  may 
learn  from  these  humble  instructors  what  many  of 
the  philosophers  could  not  teach  us,  that  we  are 
not  only  the  constant,  but  peculiar  care  of  GOD; 
and  that  if  a  sparrow  does  not  fall  to  the  ground 
without  Him,  much  more  are  not  we  unnoticed  and 
unprotected  by  His  Providence. 

We  may  learn,  too,  from  the  fragile  and  perish- 
ing plant,  how  precarious  is  our  existence;  how 
momentary  our  duration  on  earth. 

Nor  is  this  all.  We  may  learn  that  life  \\  ill  rise 
out  of  death  and  corruption;  that  \ve  -hail  spring 
from  the  grave  like  the  seed  which  is  buried  in  the 
ground;  and  be  invested  with  a  brighter  and  more 
glorious  raiment  than  the  lilies  of  the  field  in  all 
their  beauty. 


260   ON  TAKING  THOUGHT  FOR  THE  MORROW. 

Such  knowledge  as  this  is  open  to  all.  It  grows 
in  every  field,  and  meets  us  in  all  our  paths. 
At  this  beautiful  season,  when,  from  the  frequent 
showers  which  have  visited  and  refreshed  the  earth, 
nature  retains,  even  in  summer,  the  verdure  and 
freshness  of  spring ;  we  can  find  it  on  every  page 
of  the  book  of  nature  which  is  spread  out  before 
us. 

GOD  is  visible  in  all  his  works.  In  silent  majesty, 
or  beauty,  or  utility,  they  praise  HIM. 

It  is  by  man  that  their  songs  of  praise  should  have 
intelligent  utterance. 

*  GREAT  AND  MARVELLOUS  ARE  THY  WORKS,  LORD 
GOD  ALMIGHTY  ;  IN  WISDOM  THOU  HAST  MADE  THEM 
ALL.  THE  EARTH  IS  FULL  OF  THY  RICHES.' 


261 


SERMON   XXXVIII. 


TEMPERANCE. 
1  Corinthians,  ix.  25.  —  TEMPERATE  IN  ALL  TIIINGS. 

THERE  is  a,  crusade  against  intemperance,  in  its 
common  acceptation,  and  there  should  be.  It  is  a 
holy  war.  I  am  habitually  for  peace,  but  this  is  a 
war  fa  re  in  which  I  can  conscientiously  and  earnestly 
beseech  you  to  engage. 

The  vice  of  intemperance,  in  this  sense,  cannot 
be  portrayed  in  colors  too  dark  and  appalling.  It 
is  brutish,  loathsome;  the  parent  of  sloth,  and  neg- 
ligence, and  want;  of  ill-humor,  contention  and 
murder;  infamy,  disease  and  death;  destructive 
alike  to  the  powers  of  body  and  soul;  to  present 
peace  and  future  happiness. 

It  is  the  most  dangerous  of  all  vices,  for  it  puts 
its  miserable  victim  into  the  power  of  every  other 
vice.  It  is  nor.  therefore,  a  single  vice,  but  like  the 
evil  spirit  of  whom  we  have  a  record  in  the  gospels, 
1  its  name  is  legion.' 

It  inflames  the  blood;  disturbs  the  head;   per- 


262 


TEMPERANCE. 


verts  the  heart;  and  when  the  blood  is  inflamed, 
the  head  disturbed,  and  the  heart  perverted,  what  is 
there  to  prevent  its  miserable  slave  from  becoming 
a  prey  to  every  temptation,  and  every  folly  in  life? 

'  Who  hath  woe  ?  Who  hath  sorrow  ?  Who 
hath  contention?  Who  hath  babblings?  Who 
hath  wounds  without  cause?  They  that  tarry 
long  at  the  wine ;  they  that  seek  mixed  wine.  At 
the  last  it  biteth  like  a  serpent,  and  stingeth  like  an 
adder.' 

The  strong  man  of  the  Chouse  being  bound,  the 
passions  arise  like  robbers,  and  rifle  his  goods. 
Reason,  the  monarch  of  the  soul,  being,  for  a  time, 
dethroned,  the  subjects  spend  themselves  in  the 
work  of  anarchy,  and  many  a  step  has  been  taken, 
and  many  a  deed  done,  the  consequences  of  which 
have  haunted  the  perpetrator  through  all  his  suc- 
ceeding existence,  making  his  days  wearisome  and 
his  nights  a  burden. 

We  cannot  be  too  much  on  our  guard,  then,  to 
prevent  the  access  of  this  calamity  to  ourselves,  nor 
be  too  anxious  to  do  all  that  we  can  reasonably  and 
lawfully  do,  to  avert,  or  remove  it  from  others. 

If  there  is  any  one  in  this  assembly  who  is  tam- 
pering with  this  enemy  to  his  peace  and  welfare, 
let  me  earnestly  entreat  him  to  give  it  no  place ;  no, 
not  for  a  moment ;  to  avoid  every  thing,  to  break 
off"  from  every  thing  that  may  tend  to  make  him 
the  slave,  the  victim,  of  this  degrading,  loathsome, 
destructive  vice! 

What  need  have  any  of  us  of  intoxicating  drinks  ? 


TEMPERANCE.  263 

Why  allow  them  a  place  in  our  house,  except  in 
the  medicine  chest  ? 

If  there  be  a  parent  here  whose  conscience  tes- 
tifies that  he  is  chargeable  with  this  intemperance, 
or  with  any  fondness  for  intoxicating  drink,  I  would 
say  to  him,  *  Think  of  the  evil  that  you  are  working 
in  your  sphere.  You  are  bound  to  set  a  good  ex- 
ample before  your  children,  and  how  can  this  be 
done  while  you  continue  what  you  are  ?  Remem- 
ber that  you  do  not  stand  alone  in  life,  but  that 
from  you  descends  an  influence  upon  your  children. 
Yes,  it  may  be  upon  your  children's  children,  through 
many  generations.* 

But,  in  our  zeal  against  this  wide-spreading  and 
destructive  evil,  there  is  danger  that  other  kinds  of 
intemperance  will  be  overlooked.     The  apostle  tells  ' 
us  that  we  must  be  '  temperate  in  all  things.' 

It  concerns  every  one,  therefore,  whilst  he  is  cast- 
ing a  stone  at  his  poor,  degraded  fellow-creature 
who  needs  his  pity,  his  labors,  his  prayers,  to  look 
to  himself,  and  see  if  there  is  *  no  beam  in  his  own 
eye.'  Intemperance  is  not  confined  to  the  excessive 
use  of  ardent  spirits.  There  are  those,  I  remark 
first,  —  and  they  are  more  numerous  than  is  com- 
monly imagined,  —  who  are  intemperate  in  the  use 
of  food,  and  who  thus  pervert  what  was  designed 
for  the  preservation  and  support  of  life,  into  the 
instrument  of  its  injury  and  destruction. 

There  is  pain  and  uneasiness  in  the  sensation  of 
hunger;  there  is  pleasure  in  its  gratification.  It 
has  been  so  appointed  by  our  wise  and  merciful 


264  TEMPERANCE. 

Creator,  for  the  purpose  of  impelling  us  to  seek  the 
food  which  is  essential  to  our  subsistence.  But 
many  seem  to  imagine  that  this  pleasure  is  the  end 
of  eating,  and  not  the  means  to  an  end.  The  de- 
mands of  nature  are  easily  satisfied,  and  when 
these  alone  are  considered,  there  is  seldom  danger 
of  excess.  But  when  we  eat  merely  for  pleasure, 
we  go  beyond  the  demands  of  nature,  and  are  in 
danger  of  being  led  into  all  the  evils  of  intempe- 
rance. 

Gluttony  is  a  most  degrading,  as  well  as  per- 
nicious vice.  Its  ill  effects  are  hardly  less  to  the 
individual  than  those  of  the  intemperance  before 
noticed.  By  deranging  the  physical  system,  it  im- 
pairs the  mental  faculties,  and,  of  course,  the  ability 
'to  fulfil,  in  a  proper  manner,  the  duties  of  life.  Let 
us  guard,  then,  against  all  approaches  to  this  vice. 
It  deserves  our  serious  consideration  that  there  are 
few  who,  in  this  particular,  keep  within  the  strict 
bounds  of  temperance,  and  who  do  not,  there- 
fore, in  some  measure,  unfit  themselves  for  the 
performance  of  their  appropriate  duties.  The 
lightness  of  spirit,  the  Cheerfulness  of  heart,  the 
serenity  of  temper,  the  alacrity  of  mind,  the  vigor 
of  the  understanding,  the  obedience  of  the  will, 
the  freedom  from  bad  desires,  and  the  propen- 
sity to  good  ones,  which  are  the  fruit  of  a  prudent, 
judicious  self-denial  in  the  particular  I  have  men- 
tioned, are  inconceivable  by  those  who  have  not 
experienced  them. 

Nor  is  it  only  those  who  are  intemperate  in  eat- 


TKMI'KRANCE. 

ing  and  drinking,  that  are  obnoxious  to  the  charge 
of  intemperance.  The  abuse  of  any  of  the  pas- 
sions is  intemperance  in  a  degree  proportioned  to 
the  nature  and  measure  of  that  abuse. 

He  who  habitually  indulges  in  excessive  anger  is 
intemperate.  Licentiousness  is  intemperance,  and 
intemperance  of  the  lowest  and  most  degrading 
kind.  The  miser  and  the  spendthrift  are  intem- 
perate :  but  liberality  is  temperance,  for  it  is  equally 
removed  from  covetousness  on  the  one  hand,  and 
prodigality  on  the  oilier. 

And  what  shall  we  say  of  the  violent  partisan  in 
politics  and  theology  ?  —  I  do  not  say  religion,  for 
in  religion  there  can  be  nothing  but  kindness,  for- 
bearance, and  love. 

Politics  and  theology!  How  much  intemperance 
is  here !  What  severity,  and  harshness,  and  bitter 
denunciation  !  How  are  men  carried  away  by  their 
prejudices!  How  do  they  lose  their  reason,  and 
judgment,  and  temper,  and  often  when,  in  principle, 
there  is  no  difference  at  all. 

There  is  a  tendency  in  our  nature  to  extremes. 
Good  men,  when  engaged  in  the  promotion  of  a 
worthy  end,  remember,  —  it  may  be,  —  the  injunc- 
tion of  the  apostle  that  it  is  good  to  be  zealously 
affected  in  a  good  thing ;  but  too  often  forget  that 
the  same  apostle  has  told  us  *  there  is  a  zeal  that  is 
not  according  to  knowledge.' 

Even  the  wise  and  judicious  suffer  themselves  to 
be  betrayed  by  the  weak  minded  and  enthusiastic, 
into  measures  which,  in  the  exercise  of  then*  cool, 

voi.  ii.  23 


266  TEMPERANCE. 

deliberate  judgment,  they  would  not  approve.  No- 
thing eminently  great  or  good,  I  am  aware,  can  be 
effected  without  zeal  and  enthusiasm,  but  these  are 
perfectly  consistent  with  wisdom  and  discretion, 
and  should  never  exist  without  them.  I  shall  not 
be  misunderstood,  I  trust,  when  I  say  that  I  have 
witnessed,  with  much  pain,  the  exhibition  of  intem- 
perance in  the  cause  of  temperance ;  and  I  have 
much  regretted  that  this  noble  cause  should  be  so 
deeply  '  wounded  in  the  house  of  its  friends.'  The 
use  of  hard  words  is  not  so  efficacious  as  sound 
argument. 

Let  not  any  of  those  who  are  engaged  in  the  traf- 
fic of  ardent  spirits,  —  and  not  a  few  honorable  and 
excellent  men,  as  I  well  know,  are  so,  —  be  prevented 
by  harsh  denunciation,  from  taking  a  serious,  calm 
and  deliberate  view  of  this  matter;  whether  the 
dreadful  effects  of  the  evil  use  of  ardent  spirits  does 
not  make  it  a  duty  which  they  owe  to  GOD  and 
man,  to  strike  off  from  their  business  this  poisonous 
branch  of  it. 

For  myself,  I  would  say  that  I  know  not  what 
would  tempt  me,  —  not  the  wealth  of  the  Indies,  — 
no,  not  the  treasures  which  the  world  contains,  — 
would  tempt  me  to  have  on  my  soul  the  burden, 
even  of  an  apprehension,  that  1  had  been  instru- 
mental in  the  corruption,  degradation,  ruin,  of  one 
single  fellow-being.  Still  less,  that,  —  as  in  the 
ramifications  of  society,  it  might  be,  —  I  had  been 
instrumental  in  the  corruption  and  ruin  of  thousands 
of  my  fellow-beings  for  time  and  eternity. 


TEMPERANCE.  267 

How  could  I  contemplate  the  family,  once  united, 
comfortable  and  happy,  now,  through  my  agency, 
disunited,  poor  and  miserable  ? 

How  could  I  look  upon  that  wife  and  those  chil- 
dren, whose  husband  and  lather  I  had  transformed 
from  a  protector,  supporter,  kind  and  tender  friend, 
into, —  I  will  not  say  a  brute, —  I  would  not  so 
miieli  dishonor  the  inferior  creation  who  obey  the 
impulses  of  natural  affection, —  but,  into  a  monster, 
without  natural  affection,  regardless  of  the  closest 
ties,  dead  to  the  tender  charities  of  life;  a  slave 
himself,  and  yet  the  cruel  tyrant  and  oppressor  of 
those  whom  he  once  had  loved  and  cherished,  and 
whom,  by  the  most  sacred  obligations,  he  is  bound 
to  love  and  cherish  always.  How  could  I  lift  up 
my  face  before  my  GOD  and  Judge,  whose  image,  in 
the  soul  of  my  brother,  I  had  cruelly  defaced  or 
destroyed?  The  thought  of  it  would  haunt  me  by 
1 1 id  by  night.  On  every  breeze  would  come  to 
me  the  lamentations,  —  if  not  the  maledictions, — 
of  the  broken-hearted  and  miserable. 

No!  the  gain  of  the  whole  world  could  be  no 
compensation  for  the  thought  that  I  had  destroyed 
a  single  soul.  'He  that  converteth  a  sinner  from 
the  error  of  his  way,  shall  save  a  soul  from  death 
and  hide  a  multitude  of  sins.'  But  not  so,  he  who 
eneoiira^eth  the  sinner  in  the  error  of  his  way,  or 
tempts  him  to  sin.  To  him,  the  language  of  Scrip- 
ture is,  'Woe  unto  him  that  giveth  his  neighbor 
drink,  and  makeih  him  drunken!' 

4  They  that   turn    many   to   righteousness,   shall 


268  TEMPERANCE. 

shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament  and  as 
the  stars  forever  and  ever.' 

Be  temperate  in  all  things.  My  text  is  itself  a 
sermon.  It  has  been  preached  to  you  here.  Preach 
it  to  yourselves,  my  hearers,  at  home  and  abroad. 
Carry  it  with  you  into  your  families,  your  business, 
your  recreations.  Be  temperate  in  your  feelings, 
your  passions,  your  words  and  actions.  Be  tem- 
perate in  your  joys,  and  temperate  in  the  indulgence 
of  your  sorrows. 

It  is  by  temperance  in  all  things,  that  we  are  to 
4  lay  aside  the  weight'  that  would  encumber  us  on 
our  Christian  race. 

'  They  that  strive  for  the  mastery,'  says  the  apos- 
tle, '  are  temperate  in  all  things.'  They  did  it  to 
obtain  a  '  corruptible  crown ; '  WE,  AN  INCORRUPTI- 
BLE. 


269 


SERMON  XXXIX. 


MAKING    HASTE    TO    BE    RICH. 
Proverbs  xxvii.  20.  —  HE  THAT  MAKETH  HASTE  TO  BE  RICH,  SHALL 

NOT    BE     INNOCENT. 

THE  book  of  Proverbs  is  a  store-house  of  prac- 
tical wisdom.  It  is  so  justly  founded  on  the  princi- 
ples of  human  nature,  and  so  adapted  to  the 
permanent  interests  of  man,  that  it  agrees  with 
the  manners  of  every  age,  and  contains  rules  for 
the  direction  of  conduct  in  every  rank  and  condition 
of  life,  however  varied  in  its  complexion,  or  diversi- 
fied in  its  circumstances.  It  would  be  well  if  this 
book  were  more  diligently  studied  at  the  present 
day.  The  numerous  embarrassments  which  are 
constantly  occurring,  are  conclusive  evidence  that 
its  maxims  are  not  known,  or,  if  known,  are  disre- 
garded. Though  not  universally  and  invariably 
applicable,  and  though  not  always  to  be  understood 
in  a  literally  strict  sense,  without  any  exceptions, 
yet  there  is  enougluto  serve  as  a  sure  and  safe  guide 
in  the  business  of  life. 

I  am  not  certain  that  a  due  attention  to  the 
declaration  of  my  text  would  not  be  sufficient  to 
prevent  all  the  difficulties,  the  ruin  and  distress 
23* 


270 


MAKING    HASTE    TO    BE    RICH. 


which,  in  the  operations  of  trade,  so  often  take  place. 
It  is,  probably,  making  haste  to  be  rich,  that  is 
the  cause  of  all  this  ;  and  surely  if  there  were  not 
other  and  greater  evils,  —  if  it  did  not  lead  to  the 
absorption  of  the  mind  by  worldly  cares,  and  an 
unremitted  devotion  to  worldly  business,  — i  He  that 
maketh  haste  to  be  rich  cannot  be  innocent.' 

1.  In  the  first  place,  making  haste  to  be  rich  leads 
to  over-trading'  /  to  hazardous,  perhaps  to  rash  and 
imprudent,  speculations.  He  that  maketh  haste  to 
be  rich,  is  not  satisfied  with  moderate  profits  in  a 
safe  and  prudent  line  of  business.  He  must  needs 
project  and  over-trade.  *  He  considereth  not,'  as 
saith  the  author  of  my  text,  i  that  poverty /shall 
come  upon  him.'  A  little  consideration  would 
show  him  that  poverty  is  the  ordinary  consequence 
of  adventuring  in  trade  beyond  what  his  capital 
admits  and  justifies.  Demands  often  come  before 
returns,  and  returns  may  never  come,  —  at  least  in 
proportion  to  the  sum  at  stake. 

Attend  to  the  history  of  those  who  have  failed  in 
the  pursuit  of  wealth.  The  most  frequent  cause  of 
their  failure  is  hastening  to  be  rich  by  over-trading. 
Attend  to  the  history  of  those  who  have  succeeded. 
The  most  frequent  cause  of  their  success,  is  pru- 
dent, moderate,  persevering  industry. 

I  grant  that  you  may  point  to  hundreds,  who 
have  succeeded  in  the  foolish,  sinful  course  my  text 
condemns  ;  but  tell  me  how  many  thousands  have 
been  overwhelmed  in  ruin  and  misery  by  it. 

I  have  been  told,  by  the  wise  and  observing,  that 


MAKING    HASTE    TO    BE    RICH.  271 

of  those  who  come  to  this  place  to  engage  in  mer- 
cantile pursuits, more  than  one  half,  —  perhaps  two- 
thirds,  —  are  disappointed,  and  become  embarrassed, 
or  become  bankrupt. 

It  is  owing  to  over-trading,  and  to  another  evil 
which  leads  to  over-trading,  and  arises  from  a  '  haste 
to  be  rich/  I  mean  the  practice  of  excessive  surety- 
ship.  l  Be  not  thou  one  of  those  that  strike  hands, 
or  of  them  that  are  sureties  for  debts.' 

I  confess  that  I  approach  this  subject  with  some 
hesitation.  Not  because  I  have  any  doubts,  or  be- 
cause I  have  any  apprehensions  in  delivering  my 
opinion,  but  because  experience  has  led  me  to  fear 
thai  it  is  a  fruitless  task  to  oppose  it.  I  should  long 
since,  however,  have  desisted  from  preaching,  if  I 
had  been  discouraged  by  the  want  of  the  fruit  I 
expected  from  my  preaching.  In  a  multitude  of 
cases  we  are  obliged  to  adopt  the  plaintive,  despond- 
ing complaint  of  the  prophet,  '  I  have  labored  in 
vain,  and  spent  my  strength  for  nought.' 

I  have  said  excessive  suretyship.  I  would  not 
condemn  all  suretyship.  Even  the  wise  author  of 
my  text  does  not  wholly  forbid  it.  There  are  cases 
in  which  he  says,  i  An  honest  man  is  surety  for  his 
neighbor,'  though  at  the  same  time  he  says,  *  A  man 
void  of  understanding  becomes  surety.'  These 
assertions  appear  contradictory,  but  are  not  really 
so.  To  lend,  and  to  become  surety,  are  ollicc-  oi 
friendship  which  we  may  sometimes  impose  upon 
ourselves,  but  we  must  be  careful  not  to  exceed  the 
proper  limits.  If  it  be  to  serve  a  friend  in  a  case  of 


272  MAKING    HASTE    TO    BE    RICH. 

strong  necessity,  and  for  a  sum  we  can  afford  to  lose^ 
the  case  is  clear.  4  Lose  thy  money  for  thy  brother 
and  thy  friend.' 

By  excessive  suretyship,  I  mean  an  amount  which 
exceeds  the  bounds  of  propriety.  These  bounda- 
ries are  exceeded  when  you  become  surety  for  such 
an  amount  as  will  essentially  injure  you,  if  you 
should  be  called  to  pay  it.  '  If  thou  hast  nothing 
to  pay,  why  should  he  take  thy  bed  from  under 
thee  ? '  <  Suretyship  hath  undone  many  a  good  es- 
tate, and  shaken  them  like  a  wave  of  the  sea. 
Mighty  men  hath  it  driven  from  their  houses,  so 
that  they  wandered  among  strange  nations.' 

The  boundaries  of  propriety  are  also  exceeded, 
when  you  become  surety  for  so  large  an  amount  as 
will  tempt  your  friend  to  hazard  so  much  as  will 
ruin  him,  if  he  should  be  unsuccessful,  and  perhaps 
hang  a  millstone  about  his  neck,  from  which  he  can- 
not free  himself. 

To  become  surety  for  more  than  you  can  afford 
to  lose  without  distress,  is  a  cruel  injustice  to  your 
family  and  those  who  may  look  to  you  for  support 
and  assistance.  To  become  surety  for  so  much  as 
will  tempt  another  to  risk  more  than  there  is  a 
strong  probability,  —  a  moral  certainty,  —  he  will  be 
able  to  repay,  is  an  act  of  cruelty  to  him.  You 
may  be  accessary  to  his  ruin.  You  may  be  the 
cause  of  it.  How  many  young  persons  have  been 
ruined  by  the  cruel  kindness  of  their  wealthy 
friends,  in  lending  them  their  names  for  a  large 
amount !  How  many  have  themselves  been  ruined 


MAKING    HASTE    TO    BE    RICH.  273 

by  lending  their  names  for  an  amount,  the  loss  of 
which  they  could  not  sustain! 

I  have  often  quoted,  and  think  it  well  to  quote  in 
this  connection,  the  declaration  of  the  apostle,  l  He 
that  provideth  not  for  his  own,  especially  those  of 
his  own  house,  hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is  worse 
than  an  infidel.' 

Now  reflect,  1  beseech  you,  when  you  are  about 
to  give  your  name  as  surety  for  another,  whether 
you  are  not  subjecting  yourselves  to  this  denunci- 
ation. Reflect  whether  you  are  not  about  to  sign 
the  death-warrant  to  the  prosperity, — perhaps  the 
existence,  —  of  those  who  are  nearest  and  dearest 
to  you.  Reflect  on  your  wife  and  children,  and 
your  aged  parents.  Reflect  on  the  poor  whom  you 
might  relieve  by  your  bounty  ;  the  works  of  piety 
and  utility  you  might  promote  by  your  benefac- 
tions. *  Shall  I  be  the  author  of  misery  to  my 
family?  Shall  I, to  serve  one  child,  beggar  all  my 
children?1  —  perhaps  to  serve  a  stranger,  —  it  may 
be,  to  serve  one  who  is  utterly  unworthy  of  the 
favor,  and  is  deceiving  me  with  false  pretences  at 
the  moment  he  is  soliciting  this  act  of  kindness? 

The  character  of  such  a  one  is  thus  fitly  drawn  by 
the  author  of  my  text.  '  Many,  when  a  thing  was 
lent  them,  reckoned  it  to  be  found,  and  put  them  to 
trouble  that  helped  them.  Till  he  hath  received,  he 
^\  ill  kiss  a  man's  hand,  and  for  his  neighbor's  money 
will  speak  submissively;  but  when  he  should  repay, 
he  will  prolong  the  time  and  return  words  of  grief, 
and  complain  of  the  times.  '  The  wicked  borrow- 
eth  and  payeth  not  again.' 


274 


MAKING    HASTE    TO    BE    RICH. 


I  have  spoken  of  suretyship  as  a  cause  of  em- 
barrassment and  bankruptcy.  But  I  have  some- 
times heard  of  this  language  being  used  in  connection 
with  pecuniary  obligations  contracted  by  suretyship. 
1  A  man  is  under  an  obligation  to  pay  his  own  debts, 
but  not  to  pay  the  debts  of  others.' 

His  own  debts !  Whose  debt  is  that  for  which 
he  has  become  responsible  ?  Whose  debt  is  that 
which  he  has  given  a  pledge  he  will  pay,  if  the 
principal  should  fail  to  pay  it  when  called  upon  to 
do  so  ? 

Is  he  under  no  obligation  to  pay  on  the  faith  of 
whose  suretyship,  on  the  sight  of  whose  name,  the 
money  was  loaned  ?  Can  any  conscientious  man 
use  such  language  as  this  ?  '  My  soul  come  not 
thou  into  their  secret.  Unto  their  assembly  mine 
honor  be  not  thou  united.'  There  is  as  sacred  an 
obligation  to  pay  such  a  debt  as  any  debt  that  can 
be  contracted.  Nay,  possibly,  the  obligation  may  be 
more  sacred  than  on  him  to  whom  the  money  was 
lent,  because  on  the  surety,  in  many,  if  not  most 
cases,  the  chief  reliance  for  payment  is  placed. 
It  is  for  the  debtor  to  remunerate  his  surety  when 
he  is  able  to  do  so.  It  is  his  duty  to  remunerate  all 
his  creditors  to  the  utmost  farthing,  when  it  is  in 
the  power  of  his  hand  to  do  it. 

I  am  sensible  that,  in  the  vicissitude  of  human 
affairs,  it  has  been  the  lot  of  not  a  few  of  you,  my 
friends,  to  experience  embarrassments  and  difficul- 
ties in  your  business  transactions  ;  but  it  affords  me 
the  highest  satisfaction  to  believe  that  no  one  woq 


MAKING    HASTE    TO    BE    RICH.  275 

now  hears  me,  has,  under  such  embarrassments,  for- 
feited his  integrity,  or  lost  any  thing  of  the  respect 
and  confidence  he  hud  enjoyed. 

It  is  the  lot  of  nil  to  experience  disappointments 
and  misfortunes.  '  lla/t/ty  is  he  who  condemneth  not 
hi  mat- If  in  that  thing  which  he  alloweth  !  ' 

1  have  heard  of  those, — but  not  among  you, — 
my  hearers,  who  contract  debts  without  the  prospect 
or  intent  ion  of  paying  them;  who  '  enter  into 
leagues  to  deceive ; '  who  pervert  the  relations  of 
life:  transferring  goods  from  one  to  another,  to  de- 
fraud their  creditors;  who  'live  at  ease,  and  drink 
wine  in  bowls,  and  chant  to  the  sound  of  the  viol,' 
while  their  creditors  languish ;  who  betray  their 
trust,  and  convert  to  their  own  use,  what  was  given 
them  for  the  benefit  of  others;  who  surrender 
nothing  that  they  can  secrete;  are  partial  to  their 
creditors  ;  in>ult  those  whom  they  have  injured,  and 
pique  themselves  on  the  tranquillity  with  which  they 
can  bear  to  be  called  villains. 

Compassion  will  and  should  be  felt  for  one  who 
has  lived  in  affluence  and  become  bankrupt ;  but  if 
he  has  been  fraudulent,  has  defrauded  his  creditors, 
has  bought  and  built,  that  he  might  live  luxuriously, 
the  compassion  should  rather  fall  on  the  friend 
whom  he  has  betrayed;  the  trader  and  artificer 
whose  economy  he  has  deranged;  the  servant  who 
entrusted  him  with  his  wages  in  an  evil  hour;  the 
widow  whom  he  had  caused  to  weep  over  destitute 
children,  and  execrate  him,  it  may  be,  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  her  soul. 


276  MAKING    HASTE    TO    BE    RICH. 

Alas !  When  the  bustle  of  life  is  over,  he  who 
has  betrayed  the  confidence  of  friendship ;  defraud- 
ed the  trader  and  the  artificer  of  the  fruits  of  their 
honest  diligence ;  laid  his  sacrilegious  hand  on  the 
portion  of  the  widow  and  the  fatherless;  if  his 
conscience  be  at  all  awakened, — must  needs  have 
bitter  remembrances  of  the  past,  and  fearful  antici- 
pations of  the  future. 

It  is  *  judgment  come  beforehand.'  But  not  fully 
come.  Would  that  it  were  so ! 

It  is  the  premonition  of  conscience  of  a  retribu- 
tion yet  to  come,  in  the  awards  of  eternity. 

'  A  FAITHFUL  MAN  SHALL  ABOUND  WITH  BLESS- 
INGS ;  BUT  HE  THAT  MAKETH  HASTE  TO  BE  RICH, 


277 


SERMON    XL. 


CHRISTIAN     RESPONSIBILITY. 

[Preached  before  the  Society  for  Propagating  the  fiospel  among  the  Indiana  and 
others  in  North  America,  18JO,  and  first  printed  at  that  time.] 

Luke  xii.  48.  —  UNTO  WHOMSOEVER  MUCH  is  GIVEN,  OF  IIIM  SUALL 

MUCH   BE   BEQUIBED. 

WE  cannot  contemplate,  for  a  moment,  our  con- 
dition as  intellectual  and  moral  beings,  as  experi- 
encing continual  protection,  and  as  enjoying  the 
light  and  privileges  of  Christianity,  without  a  deep 
conviction  of  the  kindness  and  love  of  GOD. 

We  behold  around  us  innumerable  creatures  un- 
conscious of  the  value  of  existence,  insensible  to 
the  profusion  of  beauty  and  magnificence  which 
surrounds  them,  and  incapable  of  the  enjoyment 
which  results  from  the  cultivation  of  the  powers  of 
the  understanding,  and  the  exercise  of  the  affections 
of  the  heart.  We  behold  multitudes  of  our  fellow- 
creatures,  possessed  of  like  faculties  and  affections 
with  ourselves,  either  destitute  of  the  means  of 
intellectual  and  moral  improvement,  or  enjoying 
but  the  partial  and  imperfect  possession  of  them  ; 
dwelling  in  the  region  of  heathen  darkness  and 

TOL.  II.  24 


278 


CHRISTIAN    RESPONSIBILITY. 


superstition,  or  placed  in  circumstances  which  ex- 
clude them  from  the  full  enjoyment  of  gospel  light. 

By  the  condition  in  which  we  are  placed,  the 
most  solemn  obligations  are  imposed  upon  us.  No 
talent  which  GOD  has  given  us  should  be  neglected, 
and  no  means  of  improvement  with  which  He  has 
furnished  us,  should  be  unimproved.  If  He  has 
given  us  'more  understanding  than  the  beasts  of 
the  field,  and  made  us  wiser  than  the  fowls  of 
heaven,'  it  is,  that  we  may  devote  our  powers  to 
noble  purposes,  and  that,  being  so  much  exalted 
by  nature  above  the  animals  around  us,  we  may 
rise  superior  to  the  enjoyments  of  mere  animal  life. 
If  He  has  distinguished  us  above  many  of  our 
fellow-creatures  by  the  means  of  knowledge ;  if  He 
has  favored  us  with  the  instructions  and  promises 
and  discoveries  of  the  gospel ;  if  the  Sun  of  Right- 
eousness has  shone  upon  us  with  full  and  unclouded 
effulgence ;  it  is,  that  we  may  be  guided  in  our 
opinions  by  the  light  which  it  conveys  to  the  under- 
standing, and  be  the  subjects  of  that  holy  influence 
which  it  sheds  upon  the  heart  and  the  life.  If, 
aware  of  our  weakness,  and  the  power  of  sensible 
objects  to  draw  us  from  our  duty,  He  has  appointed 
institutions  adapted  to  strengthen  our  purposes  of 
obedience,  and  to  counteract  the  effect  of  the  objects 
around  us,  it  is,  that  by  the  observance  and  use  of 
these  institutions,  we  may  be  assisted  in  attaining 
the  end  for  which  the  gospel  was  given  us. 

Possessed,  then,  of  rational  and  moral  capacities, 
we  should  not  be  satisfied  with  low  attainments  in 


CHRISTIAN    RESPONSIBILITY.  279 

knowledge  and  goodness.  It  is  by  the  mind,  the 
immaterial  and  immortal  principle  within  us,  that  we 
resemble  the  Deity,  and  it  is  only  by  the  cultivation 
of  this  principle  that  the  resemblance  can  be  pre- 
served. It  is  by  the  mind,  the  immaterial  principle 
within  us,  that  while  on  earth,  we  are  susceptible 
of  pure  and  exalted  enjoyment,  and  that,  in  heaven, 
we  may  attain  to  ineffable  and  eternal  felicity ;  and 
it  is  only  by  the  cultivation  and  improvement  of 
this  principle,  that  the  purest  enjoyment  of  earth, 
and  the  most  exalted  felicity  of  heaven,  can  be 
secured  by  us.  Enjoying,  too,  the  light  and  privi- 
leges of  Christianity,  we  should  use  them  for  the 
purpose  of  preparing  ourselves,  by  the  grace  of 
GOD,  for  our  high  destination.  Communicating  to 
us  the  most  important  and  ^interesting  truths 
relating  to  our  Creator  and  ourselves,  we  should 
study  the  Scriptures,  that  our  minds  may  be  en- 
lightened by  the  truths  they  contain,  that  we  may 
be  guided  by  the  instructions  they  impart,  and  may 
transcribe  into  our  characters  the  examples  of  piety 
and  virtue  which  they  display.  Favored  with  in- 
stimtions  intended  and  adapted  to  advance  the 
purposes  for  which  we  were  created  intelligent 
and  immortal  beings  and  were  indulged  with  the 
blessings  of  the  gospel,  we  should  yield  to  these 
institutions  a  strict  and  diligent  observance. 

But  this  is  not  all.  We  are  to  cultivate  our  own 
powers,  and  improve  our  own  light,  and  use  our 
own  means  of  religious  and  moral  instruction,  not 
only  that  we  may  advance  our  own  benefit,  but  be 


280 


CHRISTIAN    RESPONSIBILITY. 


useful  also  to  others.  We  are  formed  for  society. 
We  have  social  affections.  We  depend  upon  society 
for  much  of  our  comfort  and  happiness.  Our 
duties  in  this  state  are  mutual  and  reciprocal. 
Receiving  from  others,  we  must  impart  to  others,  in 
return.  Nor  is  this  to  be  confined  to  those  from 
whom  we  have  received  direct  and  personal  benefits. 
Deriving  advantage  from  the  social  state,  we  must 
labor  to  meliorate,  improve,  and  elevate  that  state 
wherever  it  exists. 

Hence  results  the  duty  of  diffusing  the  means  of 
instruction ;  for  the  wisest  of  men  has  long  ago 
told  us,  what,  indeed,  our  own  observation  abun- 
dantly confirms,  that  '  for  the  soul  to  be  without 
knowledge,  is  not  good.'  Hence,  especially,  results 
the  duty  of  diffusing  religious  instruction ;  for  one 
almost  as  wise,  at  a  much  later  period,  has  left  it  on 
record  as  the  fruit  of  his  researches  and  experience. 
4  That  there  never  was  found  in  any  age  of  the 
world,  either  philosophy,  or  sect,  or  religion,  or 
law,  or  discipline,  which  did  so  highly  exalt  the 
public  good,  as  the  Christian  faith.' 

But  you  need  not  the  opinion  of  Lord  Bacon, 
Christians,  to  convince  you  of  the  worth  of  Chris- 
tianity. No,  —  you  are  fully  aware  of  its  importance 
to  the  public  welfare,  and  to  private  virtue  and 
happiness ;  how  essential  it  is  to  the  progress  of 
civilization  and  the  useful  arts;  how  much  it 
elevates  the  tone  of  public  morals  ;  and  how  power- 
ful an  influence  it  exerts  where  '  law  and  discipline ' 
have  no  control.  You  are  fully  aware  of  its 


CHRISTIAN    RESPONSIBILITY.  281 

beneficial  effects  on  our  personal  condition,  and  on 
the  relations  of  domestic  life ;  what  light,  and 
comfort,  and  joy  it  imparts  wherever  its  influence 
is  felt ;  how  much  contentmeut,  and  patience,  and 
resignation,  and  hope  it  inspires  in  poverty,  and 
sickness,  and  sorrow,  and  death ;  how  it  infuses 
sweetness  into  the  bitterest  cup,  and  tinges  with 
brightness  the  darkest  cloud  of  calamity;  how  it 
has  lighted  up  the  passage  of  the  grave,  and  pre- 
sented to  the  inquiring  eye  of  faith  a  brighter 
region  beyond  it.  Yes,  —  it  *  has  brought  life  and 
immortality  to  light;'  it  has  opened  the  gates  of 
the  tomb,  loosed  the  cerements  of  the  dead,  and 
given  back  the  pious  departed  to  the  faith  of 
surviving  relatives. 

In  the  chamber  of  sickness,  it  has  smoothed  the 
pillow  of  the  dying,  filled  a  void  in  the  heart  which 
not/i  ing  else  could  fill,  removed  a  reluctance  to  die 
which  nothing  else  could  abate,  whispered  peace  to 
the  departing  spirit,  and,  like  an  angel  from  heaven, 
beckoned  it  upward  to  the  abodes  of  everlasting 
rest  and  joy. 

THANKS  BE  UNTO  GOD  FOR  His  UNSPEAKABLE 
GIFT  ! '  How  many  hearts,  which  have  experienced 
its  cheering  encouragements,  its  divine  supports,  its 
animating  hopes,  will  respond  when  I  repeat, 
*  Thanks  be  unto  GOD  for  his  nn-p*  akahlc  <rjft  | ' 

Such,  my  hearers,  so  efficacious,  is  the  religion 

we  have  received,  and  which  it  is  our  duty,  as  there 

is   need,  and  we   have  opportunity,  to  impart  to 

others.     Wherever  the  heralds  of  salvation  are  sent, 

24* 


282 


CHRISTIAN    RESPONSIBILITY. 


we  should  devoutly  wish  them  a  blessing  from  the 
Lord;  and  to  every  rational,  practicable  plan  for 
promoting  the  diffusion  of  Christian  truth,  and  of 
course  advancing  the  best  interests  of  mankind,  we 
should  afford,  as  we  have  ability,  our  patronage  and 
aid. 

If  there  is  a  prospect  of  success,  we  must  scatter 
our  seeds  in  the  wilds  of  Patagonia,  cast  our  bread 
upon  the  waters  of  the  Ganges,  open  a  fountain  of 
life  in  the  Arabian  desert,  and  kindle  a  flame,  which 
shall  diffuse  light  and  heat,  upon  the  mountains  of 
the  frozen  pole.  At  least,  we  must  pray  that  the 
kingdom  of  GOD  may  come,  and  we  may  not  con- 
demn, however  we  may  hesitate  to  assist,  the 
feeblest  and  most  unpromising  effort. 

To  human  reason,  nothing  could  appear  more 
wild  and  extravagant  than  the  original  project  of 
establishing  the  Christian  Religion,  with  so  many 
obstacles  to  overcome,  and  such  trifling  and  insig- 
nificant means  for  effecting  it.  Without  doubt,  if  it 
had  been  the  work  of  man,  it  would  soon  have 
come  to  nought.  Yet  it  stood  and  flourished,  and 
extended  itself.  '  It  has  sent  forth  its  boughs  to  the 
sea,  and  its  branches  to  the  rivers,'  and,  from  past 
experience,  we  may  well  believe,  that  the  time  is  has- 
tening on,  when  all  nations  shall  repose  under  its 
foliage,  and  be  refreshed  by  its  fruit. 

It  is  not,  however,  to  such  extensive  views,  to 
such  large  and  diffusive  exertions,  however  honora- 
ble and  useful,  that  we  are  called  by  the  venerable 
Society,  which  I  have  the  honor  now  to  address.  It 


CHRISTIAN    RESPONSIBILITY.  283 

confines  its  attention  to  our  own  continent,  labors  to 
meliorate  the  condition  of  the  natives  of  our  own 
forests,  extends  its  helping  hand  to  the  piously  dis- 
1  in  our  new  settlements,  and  assists  in  rebuild- 
ing the  waste  places  of  our  Zion. 

In  this  comparatively  limited,  but  actually  ex- 
tensive field  of  usefulness,  it  has  long  and  success- 
fully labored.  Its  efforts  to  communicate  divine 
and  human  knowledge  to  the  Aborigines  have  not 
been  unavailing;  and  of  late,  from  a  change  in  the 
mode  of  operation  which  experience  has  suggested, 
t  lie  re  is  the  prospect  of  a  richer  harvest  of  good. 

Of  the  instruction  it  has  given  to  the  young  who 
were  growing  up  without  knowledge ;  the  warning  it 
has  addressed  to  the  careless  and  irreligious  who  were 
living  without  GOD,  the  conviction  it  has  brought  to 
the  unbelieving  who  were  without  hope  in  the  world; 
the  comfort  it  has  spoken  to  the  desponding;  the 
consolation  it  has  allordcd  the  aillieted,  and  the 
peace  it  has  imparted  to  the  dying,  who,  without  its 
benevolent  interposition,  might  have  died  in  their 
sins:  of  all  this,  the  journals  of  its  missionaries, 
and  the  reports  of  its  committee,  will  abundantly 
testify. 

Its  means  of  usefulness  are  in  no  degree  com- 
nimsurate  with  its  opportunities.  If  it  limits  its 
views,  as  required  by  its  charter,  to  the  northern 
section  of  our  own  continent.  Mill,  a  field  is  open 
before  it  sufficiently  large  to  occupy  its  whole  at- 
tention, and  incalculably  more  than  sufficient  to 
exhaust  its  resources;  reaching  from  the  Atlantic  to 


264 


CHRISTIAN    RESPONSIBILITY. 


the  Pacific,  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  to  the  Arctic 
Ocean  and  the  frozen  shores  of  Greenland.  But  it 
is  only  in  its  charter  that  it  takes  so  wide  a  range. 
Over  this  extended  space,  it  can  cast  only  an  anx- 
ious, and,  but  for  the  sure  word  of  prophecy,  a  hope- 
less glance.  It  must  return  to  a  narrower  sphere, 
happy  if  within  this  sphere  it  can  do  something  to 
diffuse  the  blessings  of  civilization,  and  extend  the 
bounds  of  the  Redeemer's  kingdom. 

Conscious  of  the  dignity  and  importance  of  the 
objects  which  it  labors  to  promote,  it  is  not  ashamed 
to  solicit  your  cooperation.  In  doing  this,  it  calls 
you  to  the  most  honorable  office,  that  of  i  fellow- 
workers  with  GOD  ; '  to  the  best  service,  that  of  dis- 
pensing the  Bread  of  Life ;  to  the  highest  reward,  the 
reward  of  those  who  have  '  turned  many  to  righteous- 
ness, and  who  shall  shine  as  the  stars  forever  and 
ever.' 

Nor  does  it  call  you  to  a  fruitless  service,  for, 
whilst  it  bids  you  obey  the  voice  which  cries  from 
the  wilderness,  '  Prepare  ye  the  way  of  the  Lord, 
make  straight  in  the  desert  a  highway  for  our  GOD,' 
it  invites  you  to  hear  the  encouraging  promise,  '  The 
wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  shall  be  glad,  and 
the  desert  shall  rejoice,  and  blossom  as  the  rose.' 

Would  you  be  instrumental  in  accomplishing  this 
glorious  design  ?  Would  you  promote  the  spread 
of  a  religion  which  is  productive  of  effects  so  bene- 
ficial, which  thus  softens  the  most  rugged  face  of  na- 
ture, converts  the  dreary  waste  into  a  fruitful  field, 
and  causes  the  solitary  place  to  echo  the  notes  of 


CHRISTIAN    RESPONSIBILITY.  285 

Grateful  praise  ?  Would  you  bear  yonr  part  in  iv- 
claiminir  tin*  wandering  savage,  in  teaching  him  to 
know  and  feel  'the  charities  of  father,  son  and 
brother,'*  and  in  giving  him  a  home  of  love  and 
peace  and  piety?  —  cast  in  your  offering.  To  ob- 
jects such  as  these,  it  will  be  faithfully  applied. 
•  I'Yeelv  ye  have  received,  freely  give.' 

The  apostles  of  our  Lord,  and  many  of  the  early 
Christians,  sustained  the  loss  of  every  thing,  but  a 
good  conx-ience,  and  the  hope  of  heaven,  that  they 
might  brinir  others  to  a  participation  of  the  heavenly 
treasure  which  was  entrusted  to  them.  They  were 
not  satisfied  with  enjoying  its  benefits,  but  labored, 
incessantly,  to  diffuse  them.  To  their  exertions,  to 
the  labors  and  sacrifices  of  these  Christian  Mis- 
sionaries and  their  successors,  are  we  indebted  for 
the  exalted  rank  we  hold,  and  the  immortal  hopes 
we  entertain  as  Christians,  and,  as  far  as  circum- 
stances demand,  and  opportunities  allow,  shall  we 
not  emulate  their  efforts  ? 

Consider,  I  beseech  you,  my  friends,  whilst  you 
are  providing  for  the  temporal  comfort  of  your  fel- 
low-creatures, whether  you  have  done  enough  for 
their  spiritual  and  eternal  interests?  By  aiding 
some  species  of  charity,  you  may  encourage  idle- 
ness and  vice,  and  thus  instead  of  lessening,  may 
increase  the  amount  of  real  suffering.  But  it  is 
far  otherwise  with  regard  to  the  charity  which 

•  Milton. 


286  CHRISTIAN    RESPONSIBILITY. 

I  now  recommend.  By  the  diffusion  of  religious 
knowledge,  you  furnish  the  strongest  incitements  to 
industry,  and  the  most  powerful  motives  to  virtue  ; 
for  religion  hath  said,  '  He  that  provideth  not  for 
his  own,  especially  those  of  his  own  house,  hath 
denied  the  faith,  and  is  worse  than  an  infidel.' 
Religion  also  hath  said,  *  Without  holiness  no  man 
shall  see  the  Lord.'  <  Godliness  is  profitable  unto 
all  things,  having  the  promise  of  the  life  that  now 
is,  and  of  that  which  is  to  come.' 

My  hearers,  we  have  received  much,  and  much 
will  be  required  of  us.  Highly  exalted  in  point  of 
privilege,  it  will  be  expected  that  our  views  will  be 
enlarged,  and  our  aims  proportionably  elevated. 
Happy  will  it  be  for  us  if  we  diligently  improve  the 
talents  which  have  been  given  us,  direct  our  steps 
by  the  light  which  has  been  imparted,  faithfully  ob- 
serve the  institutions  which  have  been  appointed  for 
our  benefit,  and  promote,  as  we  can,  the  improve- 
ment and  happiness  of  our  fellow-men.  Then,  when 
our  conflict  with  the  power  of  temptation  is  ended, 
and  our  warfare  with  sin  and  with  death  is  accom- 
plished, we  shall  be  able  to  give  a  good  account  of 
our  stewardship,  and,  through  the  mediation  of  the 
Saviour,  shall  receive  the  reward  of  our  fidelity  in 
the  kingdom  of  GOD. 


287 


SERMON   XLI. 


THE   CHRISTIAN    SPIRIT. 

[Preached  at  the  Ordination  of  a  Minister  in  Kennebunk,  Maine,  1827.] 
Romans  viii.  9.  —  IF  ANY  MAN  HAVE  NOT  THE  SPIRIT  OF  CHRIST,  UK 

IS  NONE  OF   HIS. 

THERE  is  much  contention  in  the  world  respect- 
ing the'  essential  qualifications  of  a  Christian  dis- 
ciple. By  many  it  is  held,  that  the  adoption  of 
certain  opinions,  —  distinct  from  a  belief  in  the 
Christian  religion  and  the  possession  of  the  Chris- 
tian character,  —  alone  can  give  a  title  to  this 
appellation. 

The  Christian  world  is  divided  into  a  multitude 
of  sects  and  denominations,  differing  from  each 
other,  more  or  less,  in  their  modes  of  faith,  though 
all  acknowledging  the  same  Master,  and  appealing 
to  the  same  divine  authority.  With  many  of  these, 
the  reception  of  their  views,  and  an  adherence  to 
their  party,  is  essential  to  salvation.  All,  who  are 
not  within  the  limits  they  have  drawn,  must  be  lost. 
Hence  the  contempt,  —  mingled  I  trust  with  pity, — 
which  is  discovered,  and  the  harsh  epithets  which 


288  THE    CHRISTIAN    SPIRIT. 

are  used,  by  many  professing  Christians  towards 
each  other.  Hence  it  is,  that,  with  many,  a  bold, 
inveterate,  intolerant  zeal  for  favorite  tenets,  is  a 
more  effectual  recommendation,  and  a  stronger 
ground  of  attachment,  than  every  other  quality. 

How  strangely  do  such  persons  mistake  the  na- 
ture of  true  religion!  How  do  they  forget,  that, 
in  their  zeal  for  modes  of  faith,  they  lose  the  spirit 
of  the  gospel,  and  that,  without  this  spirit,  their 
faith  and  their  zeal  can  profit  them  nothing !  Their 
faith,  indeed,  may  be  true  in  speculation,  but,  in  its 
influence  and  effects,  it  loses  this  character.  The 
faith  of  the  gospel  worketh  by  love,  and  no  other 
faith  is  genuine.  Their  zeal,  too,  is  kindled,  —  not 
at  the  Christian  altar,  —  but  by  the  flame  of  their 
own  passions.  It  is  false  and  unhallowed,, destruc- 
tive of  the  kindest  and  best  feelings  of  their  nature. 
Far  better  were  it  that  their  faith  were  less  sound, 
and  their  temper  more  Christian. 

<  IF  ANY  MAN  HAVE  NOT  THE  SPIRIT  OF   CHRIST,  HE 

is  NONE  OF  HIS.'  You  have  here  a  test,  my  hearers, 
by  which  you  may  judge  of  your  own  character 
and  standing  as  Christians,  and  of  that  of  others. 
If  you  have  not  the  spirit  of  Christ,  you  are  none 
of  his.  If  you  perceive  in  others  a  destitution  of 
this  spirit,  however  loud  their  pretensions,  however 
ardent  their  zeal,  you  may  decide  that  they  also  are 
none  of  his. 

And  what  was  the  spirit  of  Christ  ?  It  may  be 
told  in  a  few  words.  The  spirit  of  Christ  was 
meek,  humble,  benevolent,  devout.  Where  this 


THE    CHRISTIAN    SPIRIT.  289 

spirit  to  any  considerable  degree  exists,  there  is  a 
genuine  disciple  of  Christ.  Where  any  consider- 
able portion  of  it  is  wanting,  there  may  be  a  disci- 
ple in  n nine)  but  it  is  only  in  name.  He  may  have 
the  form  of  sound  words,  but  there  is  no  substance. 
I  care  not  by  what  title  he  is  designated,  Orthodox 
or  Heterodox,  Unitarian  or  Trinitarian,  Calvinist  or 
Arminian, —  he  is  not  a  Christian.  He  has  not 
the  spirit  of  Christ,  and  the  word  of  GOD  assures 
me  that  he  is  none  of  ///>•. 

It  is  high  time  that  the  language  on  this  subject 
should  be  changed.  The  question  should  not  be, — 
To  what  church  does  he  belong?  What  is  his 
creed  ?  but  — What  is  his  spirit  ?  Has  he  the  spirit 
of  Christ? 

1.  Is  HE  MEEK,  or  is  he  passionate?  —  forgiving, 
or  revengeful  ? 

There  can  be  no  such  thing  as  a  quarrelsome, 
revengeful  Christian.  It  is  a  contradiction  in  terms. 
A  forgiving  spirit  is  essential  to  the  Christian  char- 
acter. It  was  the  spirit  of  Christ.  He  inculcated 
forgiveness  by  his  precepts.  '  If  thy  brother  tres- 
pass against  thee,  rebuke  him ;  and  if  he  repent, 
forgive  him.  And  if  he  trespass  against  thee  seven 
times  in  a  day,  and  seven  times  in  a  day  turn  again 
ee,  saying,  I  repent,  thou  shalt  forgive  him/ 
He  exhibited  it  in  his  life.  *  When  he  was  reviled, 
he  reviled  not  again;'  and  when  he  poured  out  his 
soul  an  offering  for  sin,  it  was  his  dying  petition, 
'  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they 

VOL.  ii.  1!5 


290 


THE    CHRISTIAN    SPIRIT. 


do.'    He  hath  left  us  an  example  that  we  should 
follow  his  steps. 

2.  Is  HE  HUMBLE,  or  is  he  proud  and  arrogant  ? 
disposed  to   elevate   himself  above  those   around 
him,  and  saying  to  others,  in  manners  at  least,  if 
not  in  words, i  Stand  by,  for  I  am  wiser,  or  richer, 
or  holier  than  thou  ? ' 

There  can  be  no  such  thing  as  a  proud  Christian. 
Humility  lies  at  the  foundation  of  the  Christian 
character.  The  benediction  on  the  poor  in  spirit,  is 
the  first  of  the  beatitudes.  It  has  the  promise  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  It  was  the  spirit  of  Christ. 
'  He  humbled  himself,  and  took  upon  him  the  form 
of  a  servant^  and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even 
the  death  of  the  cross.' 

3.  Is  HE  BENEVOLENT,  or  is  he  hard,  unfeeling, 
contracted  ? 

There  can  be  no  such  thing  as  an  unkind,  unfeel- 
ing Christian.  There  can  be  no  such  thing  as  an 
exclusive,  censorious  Christian.  There  may  be  the 
form,  indeed,  but  the  spirit  is  not  there.  There  is 
a  name  to  live,  but  he  is  dead.  i  Love  is  the  ful- 
filling of  the  law.'  '  The  end  of  the  command- 
ment is  love.  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  GOD 
with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  strength,  and 
with  all  thy  mind;  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself. 
On  these  two  commandments  hang  all  the  law  and 
the  prophets.'  On  every  page  of  the  gospel,  love, 
diffusive  love,  is  inscribed  in  characters  which  can- 
not be  misunderstood,  —  clear,  distinct,  indelible. 

Can  any  one,  then,  be  -destitute  of  this  spirit,  and 


THE    CHRISTIAN    SIM  HIT.  291 

yet  a  Christian?  It  was  the  spirit  of  Christ.  His 
temper  was  most  benevolent  and  kind.  He  has 
displayed  to  us  the  character  of  GOD  as  love,  and 
has  exhibited  a  perfect  pattern  of  it  in  his  own 
life. 

4.  Is  he  DEVOUT  ? 

Like  him  whom  he  professes  to  serve,  is  it  his 
meat  and  his  drink  to  do  the  will  of  his  heavenly 
Father?  Like  him,  does  he  have  reference  in  all 
hi-  conduct  to  GOD?  Like  him,  does  he  hold  fre- 
(jiicut  communion  with  GOD,  and  delight  in  such 
communion  ? 

There  can  be  no  such  thing  as  an  undevout  Chris- 
tian. Piety  to  GOD  is  as  essential  to  the  Christian 
character,  as  justice  and  benevolence  to  man.  If  to 
love  our  neighbor  is  the  second  commandment  in 
the  law,  to  love  the  Lord  our  GOD  is  the  first.  From 
love  to  GOD  must  love  to  our  neighbor  proceed.  No 
man  can  be  a  true  Christian  who  merely  complies 
with  the  second  table  in  the  law.  He  may  be  a 
believer  in  Christ,  gentle  in  his  disposition,  humble 
in  his  deportment,  benevolent  and  charitable  in  his 
conduct,  and  yet  be  destitute  of  an  essential  part  of 
the  Christian  character.  He  may  be  all  this,  and 
have  no  love  to  GOD.  He  may  be  all  this,  and 
seldom  or  never  think  of  GOD. 

To  have  the  spirit  of  Christ,  he  must  be  able  to 
say, '  I  am  here,  not  to  do  mine  own  will,  but  the 
will  of  Him  who  sent  me.'  To  have  the  spirit  of 
Christ,  he  must  be  able  to  say,  and  to  feel  it  when 
he  says,  *  The  Father  is  with  me.'  To  have  the 


292  THE    CHRISTIAN    SPIRIT. 

spirit  of  Christ,  he  must  be  able  to  say,  —  and  from 
his  heart  to  say  so,  —  however  bitter  the  cup  which 
he  is  called  to  drink,  — '  Father,  not  as  I  will,  but  as 
thou  wilt.' 

I  repeat  it,  —  let  not  the  question  be,  —  To  what 
church  does  he  belong  ?  What  is  his  creed  ?  but, 
i  What  manner  of  spirit  is  he  of?'  Where  the 
spirit  of  Christ  is  most  apparent  in  a  church ;  where 
the  simplicity,  the  humility,  the  piety,  the  mildness, 
the  condescension,  and  forbearance  of  its  members 
are  most  conspicuous  ;  where  a  fervent,  yet  moderate 
zeal  to  promote,  —  not  the  interest  of  a  party,  —  but 
vital  godliness,  is  most  eminently  displayed,  there  is 
a  church  of  Christ;  a  church  formed  on  the  model 
which  its  head  has  exhibited ;  a  church  which  he 
will  not  disown. 

To  be  meek,  humble,  benevolent,  devout.  Such 
is  the  Christian  character.  Such  was  the  spirit  of 
Christ.  SUCH  MUST  BE  OUR  SPIRIT,  OR  WE  ARE 

NONE    OF    HIS. 

MY  HEARERS  !  It  was  well  said  by  Wesley,  or 
by  some  one  else,  that  there  were  no  Calvinists  nor 
Arminians  in  heaven ;  meaning  that  all  would  be 
united  in  one  faith,  as  they  would  be  bound  to- 
gether by  one  bond  of  affection. 

Till  we  arrive  in  heaven,  if,  through  the  mercy 
of  GOD,  and  the  mediation  of  the  Saviour,  we  are 
permitted  to  go  there,  we  shall  never  be  united  in 
all  the  particulars  that  make  up  a  human  creed. 
Differing  as  men  do  in  the  structure  of  their  minds, 


THE    CHRISTIAN    SPIRIT. 

in  their  constitutional  temperament,  in  the  circum- 
stances in  which  they  are  placed,  in  the  state  of 
feeling  in  which  they  examine  the  sacred  records, 
it  is  not  wonderful  that  they  should  differ  about 
every  doctrine  which  admits  of  a  difference  of 
opinion.  It  would  be  wonderful  indeed  if  they  did 
not. 

I  am  not  prepared  to  say  that  they  may  not 
innocently  differ,  and  that  great  good  may  not 
result  from  their  disagreement.  I  am  not  prepared 
to  say,  that  one  mode  of  faith  may  not  be  better 
adapted  to  a  certain  stage  of  progress  in  cultivation 
and  refinement,  or  to  produce  beneficial  effects  on 
certain  minds  and  certain  dispositions  than  another. 
Sure  I  am  that  this  disagreement  has  led  to  the 
preservation  of  the  sacred  text  in  greater  purity  and 
uncorruptness,  to  the  more  diligent  study  of  the 
Scriptures,  and  has  given  scope  for  the  exercise  of 
the  best  Christian  grace,  —  the  grace  of  charity. 
Alas !  for  good  men,  that  this  purpose  is  so  seldom 
answered ! 

But  is  it  visionary  to  believe  that  it  will  yet  be 
answered?  that  we  shall  yet  be  united  in  this 
which  constitutes  the  chief  ornament  of  the  Chris- 
tian character  ?  Is  it  visionary  to  believe  that  the 
professed  disciples  of  Christ  will  possess  so  much 
of  the  spirit  of  their  Master,  as  to  be  kept  from 
falling'  out  by  the  way? 

How  beautiful  is  the  delineation  which  is  given 
us  of  this  heavenly  grace  of  charity  by  the  apostle ! 
How  beautiful  is  it  in  itself !  How  important,  — 
25* 


294  THE    CHRISTIAN    SPIRIT. 

how  necessary !  We  may  have  faith  enough  to 
remove  mountains,  and  zeal  enough  to  become 
martyrs  for  our  faith,  and  beneficence  enough  to 
give  all  our  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  yet,  if  we 
have  not  charity,  we  are  nothing. 

1  Charity  never  faileth.'  When  tongues  shall 
cease  and  speculative  knowledge  shall  vanish  away ; 
when  faith  shall  be  lost  in  the  vision  of  GOD,  and 
hope  in  the  enjoyment  of  celestial  felicity,  charity 
will  remain,  diffusing  its  benign  influence  through 
the  abodes  of  the  blessed,  and  binding  those,  —  yea, 
and  more  than  those,  —  together  in  heaven,  whom 
it  had  united  on  earth. 

Let  me  inculcate  this  charity  upon  you,  my 
hearers,  as  that  which  it  is  most  important  for  you 
to  possess  and  cultivate  and  display.  Do  you  bear 
the  name  of  Christ?  Be  ambitious,  above  all 
things,  to  have  this  distinguishing  characteristic  of 
your  Master.  Remember  the  prayer  which  he  of- 
fered up  for  his  disciples,  —  for  you,  —  for  his  fol- 
lowers in  all  times,  —  that  they  might  be  one,  even  as 
he  and  his  Father  were  one.  Remember  the  lesson 
of  mutual  kindness  and  good  will  which  he  enforc- 
ed by  an  appeal  to  his  own  example,  '  By  this  shall 
all  men  know  that  ye  are  my  disciples,  if  ye  have 
love  one  to  another.' 

Cherish  those  benevolent  affections  which  will 
prompt  you  to  every  kind  office,  and  will  restrain 
you  from  every  unkind  word,  and  from  all  severe 
and  uncharitable  judgment.  If  you  find  in  the 
community  of  Christians  those  who  are  exclusive, 


THE    CHRISTIAN    SPIRIT.  295 

bigoted,  censorious,  —  pity  them  and  pray  for  them, 
but  do  not  imitate  them.  It  tin -y  revile  you,  if  they 
circulate  evil  reports  of  your  faith  or  your  conduct, 
revile  not,  traduce  not  again.  Return  not  railing 
for  railing,  but  contrariwise  blessing.  In  as  far  as 
they  have  what  you  believe  to  be  the  truth,  —  re- 
joice ;  in  as  far  as  they  have  the  spirit  of  Christ,  — 
love  it,  and  hope  that,  notwithstanding  their  bigotry, 
they  may  belong  to  Christ,  and  may  be  found  in 
heaven.  Yes,  —  and  may  find  in  heaven,  and  re- 
cognize as  brethren,  many,  very  many,  with  whom 
they  disdained  to  hold  communion  upon  earth. 

Seek  for  Christian  truth,  —  for  the  truth  once  de- 
livered to  the  saints,  but  hold  and  speak  the  truth 
in  meekness  and  love.  Instead  of  prying,  with  too 
much  curiosity,  into  the  deep  things  of  GOD,  study, 
especially,  what  is  plain  and  practical.  Study, 
nu»T  especially,  the  instructions  and  the  life  of  Jesus, 
never  forgetting  that  THE  FAITH  WHICH  is  ACCEPT- 
ABLE, IS  NOT  SO  MUCH  THE  FAITH  OF  THE  UNDER- 
STANDING AS  OF  THE  HEART. 

In  conformity  with  the  ancient,  and,  I  may  per- 
haps add,  the  invariable  usage  of  the  Congregrat  ion- 
al  churches,  till  the  spirit  of  modern  innovation, — 
wise  it  may  be,  —  has  sought  to  discard  it,  I  now 
turn  to  you,  my  young  friend,  who  have  the 
deepest  interest  in  the  solemnities  of  this  occa- 
sion. 

The  sentiments  I  have  now  expressed  are  not 
new  to  you.  They  have  been  inculcated  upon  you 


296 


THE    CHRISTIAN    SPIRIT. 


from  your  early  childhood,  and  find,  if  I  mistake 
not,  a  sincere  and  earnest  advocate  in  your  own 
breast.  You  have  been  taught  to  reject  the  badge 
of  party,  and,  whilst  you  sought  with  an  unfettered 
mind  for  Christian  truth,  to  labor  above  all  things 
to  possess  the  Christian  spirit.  You  have  been 
taught  that  it  belongs  not  to  mortals,  frail  and  fal- 
lible, who  are  neither  apostles  nor  evangelists,  to 
draw  the  limits  within  which  the  mode  of  faith  is 
safe,  and  beyond  which  it  is  fatal.  Thus  you  have 
been  taught.  You  are  now  yourself  a  teacher,  and 
it  remains  for  you  to  determine  how  far  the  in- 
structions of  the  past  shall  exert  an  influence  on 
your  future  practice.  You  go  from  ministerial 
guidance,  to  be  yourself  a  minister  and  guide  to 
others. 

There  are  those,  who,  as  well  as  you,  would  for- 
give me,  if  I  were  now  to  give  language  to  the 
feelings  with  which  your  connection  with  the  trans- 
actions of  this  day  has  inspired  me.  But  I  must 
forbear.  The  obtrusion  of  such  feelings  would  be 
unsuitable  to  the  place  in  which  I  stand,  and  the 
occasion  on  which  we  are  assembled. 

And  yet,  when  I  advert  to  the  near  relation  in 
which  I  have  stood  to  you  as  your  pastor,  and  the 
increased  responsibility  which  your  early  loss  of  pa- 
ternal counsel  imposed  upon  me,  I  feel  as  if  I  might 
be  permitted  to  breathe,  —  with  more  than  common 
fervency, —  the  prayer  that  GOD  would  '  preserve  and 
'keep  you,  would  cause  his  face  to  shine  upon  you, 
and  give  you  rest.'  Affection  for  the  living,  and  the 


THE    CHRISTIAN    SPIRIT.  297 

cherished  remembrance  of  the  departed,  give  strong  h 
and  earnestness  to  the  prayer. 

Go  forth,  then,  with  the  blessing  and  the  prayers 
of  many  hearts,  into  this  field  of  your  ministerial 
labors.  May  a  better  blessing  also  attend  you! 
1  Let  your  conversation  be  as  becometh  the  gos- 
pel of  Christ,  and  whether  I  come  and  see  you,  or 
else  be  absent,  may  I  hear  of  your  affairs,  that 
you,  and  the  people  of  your  charge,  stand  fast  in 
one  spirit,  striving  together  for  the  faith  of  the 
gospel.' 


298 


ORDER  OF  THE  SERVICES 


AT  THE   ORDINATION  IN   KENNEBUN'K. 


INTRODUCTORY  PRATER,  by  Mr.  Frotliingham,  of  Boston. 

SELECT  PORTIONS  op  THE  SCRIPTURES,  by  Mr.  Barrett,  of  Boston. 

SERMON,  by  Dr.  Lowell,  of  Boston. 

ORDAINING  PRATER,  by  Dr.  Kirkland,  of  Harvard  University. 

CHARGE,  by  Mr.  Fletcher,  of  Kennebunk. 

RIGHT  HAND  OF  FELLOWSHIP,  by  Mr.  Hipley,  of  Boston. 

ADDRESS  TO  THE  PEOPLE,  by  Dr.  Nichols,  of  Portland. 

CONCLUDING  PRATER,  by  Dr.  Parker,  of  Portsmouth. 


299 


SERMON    XLII. 


[Extract  from  a  Sermon^preached  in  the  West  Church,  in  Boston,  on 
the  Lord's  Day  after  the  death  of  GEORGE  WADSWORTH  WELT.S, 
successively  Minister  of  Kennebunk  and  Groton.] 


Psalms  ilvi.  10.  —  BE  STILL,  AND  KNOW  THAT  i  AM  GOD. 

I  CAN  offer  no  better  consolation, —  I  need  not 
desire  to  offer  any  better  consolation,  than  this,  — 
to  my  afflicted  friends  who  come  here  to-day  to  ask 
an  interest  in  our  prayers,  and  to  receive  our  heart- 
felt sympathy.  I  desire  no  better  consolation  for 
myself  under  the  loss  of  one  whom  I  loved  and 
valiled;  who,  from  infancy,  was  an  object  of  my 
pastoral  care,  and  for  whom,  from  his  early  loss  of 
paternal  counsel,  I  felt  a  double  responsibility. 

Through  life,  he  was  to  me  as  a  son  to  a  father, 
and  they  who  best  knew  him  will  know  with  what 
satisfaction  I  must  have  witnessed  the  development 
of  his  character,  and  his  progress  in  knowledge  and 
in  Christian  excellence.  J  would  fain  hope  that  it 
was  permitted  me  to  do  something  in  aid  of  his 


300          EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON. 

inestimable  mother,  —  now  in  heaven,  —  in  the  for- 
mation of  that  character. 

He  was  virtuous  from  his  childhood.  At  school, 
at  the  university,  —  as  a  student  of  theology  and 
as  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  —  an  example  of  fidel- 
ity. 

He  was  modest,  unassuming,  retiring ;  yet l  firm 
in  purpose,  inflexible  in  right ; '  of  high  moral  prin- 
ciple ;  abhorring  meanness  and  deceit ;  never  shrink- 
ing from  duty  at  whatever  cost ;  sacrificing,  —  as  it 
is  believed,  —  life  itself  to  a  conscientious  conviction 
of  what  duty  required  of  him. 

As  a  husband  and  father,  a  son  and  brother,  and 
a  Christian  minister,  I  know  not  where  I  shall  look 
to  find  a  better  model.  The  heart-bitterness  of 
those  to  whom  he  stood  in  these  near  relations,  and 
the  warm  demonstrations  of  respect  and  love  which 
his  people  have  given,  in  his  life  and  at  his  death, 
are  his  best  eulogy. 

If  the  devoted  attention,  day  and  night,  of  con- 
jugal affection,  of  a  wife,  —  alas,  how  early  widowed ! 
—  if  the  fervent  wishes  and  prayers  of  many  hearts, 
could  have  availed  to  save  a  life  so  dear  and  valua- 
ble, '  our  brother  had  not  died.' 

It  is  GOD  who  has  taken  the  husband  and  father, 
the  son  and  brother  and  Christian  minister,  —  affec- 
tionate, devoted,  faithful,  —  from  domestic  happi- 
ness and  ministerial  duty,  in  the  midst  of  his  years 
and  usefulness.  GOD  has  done  it.  'Be  still  and 
know  that  it  is  GOD.' 

It  is  a  striking  illustration  of  the  uncertainty  of 


r.\TRACT    FROM    A    SERMON.  301 

human  life,  the  fallacy  of  human  calculations,  that, 
in  visiting  a  pari>hi<>n< -r.  a  little  before  his  death, 
who  was  sick  of  an  incurable  disease,  he  took  a 
last  leave  of  her  as  of  one  who  was  on  the  verge  of 
eternity,  but  that  sick  parishioner  survives,  and  he 
is  himself  laid,  for  a  litt  le  season,  in  'the  new  tomb' 
which  she  had  prepared  for  herself. 

His  death  was  in  harmony  with  his  life.  In  the 
early  part  of  his  sickness  he  wished  to  recover, — 
or  rather,  as  I  believe, —  he  felt  as  the  apostle  felt, 
when  he  said, '  I  am  in  a  strait  betwixt  two,  having 
a  desire  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ,  which  is  far 
better;  nevertheless  to  abide  in  the  flesh  is  more 
needful  for  you.' 

He  calmly  resigned  himself  to  the  will  of  GOD, — 
took  leave  of  the  loved  ones  who  were  near  him, 
and  •  fell  asleep  ill  Jesus.' 

4  BLESSED  AIM:  mi:  DEAD  THAT  DIE  IN  TIM:  LORD. 
YEA,  SAITH  THE  SPIRIT,  TOR  TIIKY  KI:ST  I-ROM  THEIR 

\M>  TMKIR   WORKS  DO  FOLLOW  Til  KM.' 


VOL.    II.  26 


302 


SERMON    XIIIL 


WHAT  IS  NEEDFUL  FOR  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 

[Preached  at  the  Dedication  of  a  Church  in  Milton,  1829,  and  first  printed 
at  that  time.] 

Ezra  vii.  20.  —  AND  WHATSOEVER  MORE  SHALL  BE  NEEDFUL  FOR  THE 

HOUSE    OF  .THY   GOD  —  BESTOW   IT. 

THE  temple  erected  by  Solomon  was  destroyed 
by  Nebuchadnezzar,  king  of  Babylon,  about  four 
hundred  years  after  its  erection.  It  continued  in 
ruins  fifty-two  years,  till  the  first  year  of  the  reign 
of  Cyrus,  king  of  Persia,  at  Babylon.  He  permitted 
the  Jews  to  ^return  to  Jerusalem,  from  whence  they 
had  been  carried  captive,  and  to  lay  the  foundation 
of  the  second  temple.  After  various  interruptions, 
it  was  completed  and  dedicated  in  the  reign  of 
Darius,  about  twenty  years  from  its  commencement. 
Sixty-nme  years  afterwards,  Ezra,  a  Jew  of  distinc- 
tion, then  at  Babylon,  was  commissioned  by  Arta- 
xerxes  Longimanus,  a  successor  of  Darius,  to  return 
to  Jerusalem  with  the  Jews  who  still  remained  in 
his  kingdom,  and  to  take  with  them  their  silver  and 
gold,  and  the  silver  of  the  temple,  and  offerings  of 
the  king  and  his  counsellors,  to  buy  victims  for 
sacrifice. 


WHAT  IS  NEEDFUL  FOR  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 


303 


The  words  of  the  text  are  a  part  of  the  commis- 
sion that  was  thus  given  to  Ezra.  After  enumerat- 
ing the  articles  which  Ezra  was  to  purchase  for  the 
house  of  his  GOD,  the  king  adds,  *  And  whatsoever 
more  shall  be  needful  for  the  house  of  thy  GOD 
which  thou  hast  occasion  to  bestow,  bestow  it  out 
of  the  king's  treasury/ 

The  temple  at  Jerusalem,  especially  the  first,  was 
a  magnificent  edifice.  Its  decorations  were  splen- 
did, and  the  preparation  for  its  service  expensive. 
Gold  and  silver  and  precious  stones  were  lavished 
upon  it,  and  flocks  and  herds  innumerable  were 
offered  in  sacrifice  upon  its  altar. 

It  is  inconsistent  with  the  genius  of  Christianity, 
with  the  character  of  its  founder,  with  the  spiritu- 
ality of  its  doctrines,  and  the  simplicity  of  its  insti- 
tutions, that  its  temples  should  be  adorned  with 
magnificence,  or  its  worship  characterized  by  gor- 
geousness  and  splendor.  It  is  inconsistent,  too,  with 
the  simplicity  of  Congregationalism,  whose  pattern 
is  the  primitive  church,  which  was  established  and 
modelled  by  him  'who  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a 
servant,  and  Was  meek  and  lowly  in  heart.'  But 
however  incongruous  in  a  Christian  temple  may  be 
magnificence  and  splendor,  a  style  of  architecture 
chaste  and  elegant,  decorations  simple  and  beautiful, 
adapted  to  the  improved  taste  of  the  age  in  which 
we  live,  are  not  incompatible  with  the  nature  and 
spirit  of  our  religion,  or  with  the  precepts  or  example 
of  its  founder.  If  GOD  has  given  us  skill,  it  may 
be  employed  in  his  service,  and  our  ingenuity  is 


304  WHAT    IS    NEEDFUL    FOR 

well  exerted,  and  our  taste  well  displayed,  when  its 
object  is  to  add  to  the  symmetry  and  beauty  of  the 
sanctuary. 

It  is  honorable  to  you,  my  friends,  who  have 
called  us  to  this  work  of  consecration,  that  you  have 
brought,  not  indeed  of  your  silver  and  gold,  but  of 
the  firm  and  enduring  product  of  your  soil,  as  an 
offering  to  the  Lord ;  that  you  have  deemed  it  suit- 
able and  proper,  whilst  these  rocks  were  converted 
into  '  sealed  houses  to  dweh1  in,'  that  they  should 
furnish  materials  also  for  a  house  for  your  GOD. 

And  now  that  you  have  completed  this  house, 
and  have  consecrated  it  to  HIM  for  whose  service  it 
was  erected,  I  address  you  in  the  language  of  the 
text,  '  Whatsoever  more  shall  be  needful  for  the 
house  of  your  GOD,  —  bestow  it.'  Be  not  back- 
ward at  any  time  to  contribute  what  shall  be  need- 
ful to  render  it  commodious,  and  to  advance  the 
purposes  to  which  it  is  devoted.  Every  thing,  how- 
ever trivial,  which  renders  the  place  in  which  you 
assemble  for  worship  an  object  of  more  interest, 
serves  to  bind  you  to  it  and  to  cement  the  union 
of  the  worshippers. 

You  have  erected  and  dedicated  a  Christian  tem- 
ple. We  take  it  as  a  pledge  that  you  will  make 
honorable  provision  for  the  ministration  of  the  word 
and  ordinances  of  Christianity,  and  that  you  will 
bestoiu  upon  them,  as  you  are  able,  your  constant 
attendance.  In  justice  to  yourselves  you  will  make 
this  provision,  and  will  not  i  forsake  the  assembling 
of  yourselves  together  as  the  manner  of  some  is.' 


THE    HOUSE    OF    GOD.  305 

Manifesting,  as  you  have  now  done,  your  sense  of 
the  value  of  public  -worship,  you  will  not  deny  your- 
selves so  great  a  privilege,  or  encourage,  by  your 
example,  the  neglect  o'f  an  institution  so  important 
to  the  best  interests  of  society. 

But  this  is  not  all.     The  history  of  the  patriarchs, 
of  the  prophets,  of  the  apostles,  of  the  truly  pious 
in  every  age,  furnishes  abundant  testimony  to  the 
profound  reverence,  to  the  godly  fear,  to  the  deep 
humiliation,  with  which  these  holy  men  came  into 
the  more  immediate  presence  of  Almighty  GOD,  and 
addressed  him  in  the  language  of  prayer  and  praise. 
When  Abraham  stood  before  the  Lord,  interceding 
for  the  sinful  inhabitants  of  Sodom,  he  offered  his 
supplications  in   the   garb  of  humility,  and  with 
trembling  opened  his  mouth.     *  Behold  I  who  am 
but  dust  and  ashes,  have  taken  it  upon  me  to  speak 
unto  the  Lord.'     When  Jacob  awoke  from  the  sleep 
in  which  he  had  received  a  revelation  from  heaven 
respecting  his  own  destiny,  and  the  destiny  of  his 
descendants,  he  said,  '  Surely  the  Lord  is  in  this 
place,  and  I  knew  it  not,  and  he  was  afraid,  and 
said,  How  dreadful  is  this  place !     This  is  none 
other  than  the  House  of  GOD,  and  the  gate  of  hea- 
ven.'    When  Moses  was  approaching  the  burning 
bush  from  whence  issued  the  voice  of  the  Deity, 
that  voice  badr  him  refrain.     *  Draw  not  nigh;  take 
off  thy  shoes  from  off  thy  feet,  for  the  place  whereon 
thou  standest  is  holy  ground.'     When  Elijah  stood 
at  the  mouth  of  the  cave  to  hold  communion  with 
the  Most  High,  though  he  remained  unmoved  at 
26* 


306  WHAT    IS    NEEDFUL    FOR 

the  sound  of  the  thunder  and  the  whirlwind,  yet  when 
he  heard  the  still  small  voice,  Elijah  '  wrapped  him- 
self in  his  mantle  and  hid  his  head.'  It  was  thus  that 
holy  men  of  old  came,  I  do  not  say  without  levity, 
I  do  not  say  with  seriousness,  but  with  holy  rever- 
ence and  awe,  with  deep  humility  and  self-abase- 
ment, to  commune  with  GOD.  And  well  it  might 
be  so,  for  they  knew  the  character  of  the  great  and 
awful  Being  who  condescended  to  admit  their  ap- 
proach to  him.  Well  it  might  be  so,  for  they  knew 
that  this  Being  was  the  Creator,  not  of  themselves 
alone,  and  of  the  world,  —  vast  as  it  was,  —  which 
they  inhabited,  but  of  the  universe  ;  who  spake,  and 
it  was  ;  who  might  speak,  and  it  would  not  be  ;  the 
4  great  and  only  Potentate  ;  King  of  kings  and  Lord 
of  lords  ; '  infinitely  greater,  infinitely  more  exalted, 
than  the  highest  reach  of  the  highest  intellect  could 
attain.  It  was  in  the  presence  of  such  a  Being 
that  they  prostrated  their  souls  in  holy  reverence, 
and  hid  their  faces,  and  acknowledged  that  they 
were  but  dust  and  ashes. 

And  it  is  into  the  presence  of  such  a  Being,  my 
hearers,  that  you  will  come  whenever  you  enter  this 
sanctuary,' and  join  in  the  public  acts  of  religion.  It 
is  into  the  presence  of  the  HIGH  AND  HOLY  GOD, 
appearing,  not  indeed  as  in  the  terrors  of  Mount 
Sinai,  but  as  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ,  —  yet  still 
the  HIGH  AND  HOLY  GOD  — worthy  of  the  pro- 
foundest  homage,  and  of  the  most  exalted  senti- 
ments of  devotion.  The  ground  on  which  you  will 
stand  is  holy  ground,  for  it  is  devoted  to  the  pur- 


THI:   HOUSE  OF  GOD.  307 

poses  of  piety,  and  will  be  consecrated  by  the 
presence  of  the  MOST  HIGH. 

4  Whatsoever  shall  be  needful  for '  the  acceptable 
worship  of  GOD  in  this  house,  bestow  it.  The  ad- 
monition, *  Keep  thy  foot  when  thou  goest  to  the 
house  of  GOD,'  implies  caution  —  heed  —  watchful- 
ness —  lest  the  deportment  be  not  such  as  become th 
the  house  of  GOD,  —  sedateness,  —  serious  thought 
by  the  way?  And  the  further  admonition, l  Let  not 
thy  heart  be  hasty  to  utter  any  thing  before  GOD,' 
implies  that  every  word  should  be  weighed,  that 
nothing  should  be  uttered  by  the  lips,  or  proceed 
from  the  heart,  that  has  not  been  the  subject,  as  far 
as  might  be,  of  deliberate  reflection. 

Let  me  say,  that  they  are  hasty  in  uttering  their 
thoughts  and  feelings  before  GOD,  who  neglect  to 
make  all  the  preparation  they  can  make  for  his 
service  ;  —  who  spend  the  season  for  this  preparation 
in  listless  indolence,  in  idle  musings,  in  vain  and 
trilling  conversation,  in  unnecessary  business,  or  in 
the  preparation  of  the  body  in  4  outward  adorning? 
and  give  no  portion  of  it  to  pious  meditation,  to 
self-communion,  to  prayer  for  the  sanctifying  in- 
fluences of  the  Holy  Spirit,  that  the  approaching 
service  may  be  engaged  in  with  becoming  serious- 
ness, and  result  in  the  fruits  of  holy  living.  It  is 
recorded  of  Lydia,  that  'the  Lord  opened  her 
heart  that  she  attended  unto  the  things  which  were 
spoken  of  Paul ; '  and  though  the  age  of  miracles  is 
past,  we  have  no  reason  to  think  that  the  Spirit  of 
GOD  has  ceased  to  operate  on  the  hearts  of  men,  or 


308  WHAT    IS    NEEDFUL    FOR 

that  He  will  withhold  now,  more  than  then,  His 
purifying  influences  from  those  who  seek  and 
desire  them. 

Let  me  further  say,  that  it  is  next  to  impossible 
that  any  can  engage  with  a  proper  spirit  in  this 
service,  who  have  not  thus,  by  previous  meditation 
and  prayer,  adjusted  their  minds  to  the  posture  of 
devotion.  If  they  go  to  the  house  of  GOD  as  they 
go  to  their  ordinary  business,  or  if  they  go  to  the 
house  of  GOD  as  they  would  go  to  a  rational 
amusement,  I  will  not  say  that  they  cannot,  but 
I  will  say  that  there  is  little  reason  to  believe  they 
can  perform  an  acceptable  service.  It  would  be 
almost  a  miracle  if,  in  a  moment,  they  should  divest 
themselves  of  worldly  thoughts,  and  present  a  pious 
offering.  They  may  indeed,  by  the  grace  of  GOD, 
be  awakened,  when  they  least  expect  it,  and  I  had 
almost  said,  when  they  least  deserve  it,  to  serious 
reflection,  to  an  intense  and  absorbing  attention  to 
the  truths  of  religion,  —  they  may  even  come  'to 
scoff,  and  remain  to  pray,'  but  there  is  more  proba- 
bility that  they  will  go  away  as  they  came, 
unimpressed,  unaffected,  worldly,  if  not  sensual, 
with  something,  perhaps,  of  GOD  and  heaven  on 
their  lips,  but  with  little  of  them  in  their  hearts. 

And  where  will  they  go  ?  —  Alas !  how  many  go 
to  plunge  at  once  into  the  subjects  of  week-day  in- 
terest which  for  a  time,  perhaps,  had  been  banished, 
and  to  recall  the  swarm  of  vain  and  busy  images 
which,  it  may  be,  for  a  little  season,  had  taken 
their  flight.  How  many  go  (in  our  cities  at  least) 


TIN;   not  si;  OF  GOD.  309 

from  paying  their  homage  to  GOD,  to  paying  their 
civilities  to  ilieir  fellow-mortals,  often  to  the  annoy- 
ance of  those  who  desire  to  be  uninterrupted,  to 
have  a  breathing-time  from  earthly  frivolities,  to 
be  alone  with  their  GOD,  or  in  the  midst  of  their 
families:  and  often  preventing  the  intrusion  of  se- 
rious thought,  where,  without  this  interruption,  it 
illicit  have  been  awakened.  How  many  are  there, 
in  regard  to  whom  we  must  take  up  the  lamen- 
lation  of  ihe  prophet,  4  The  ways  of  Zion  do  mourn 
because  they  come  not  to  her  solemn  feasts.'  How 
many  who  turn  from  l  the  ways  of  Zion,  to  the  tents 
of  wickedness!' 

Spirits  of  our  fathers!  Ye  who  fled  from  the 
world  that  ye  might  enjoy  uninterrupted  converse 
with  your  GOD  in  a  wilderness!  Ye  who  spent 
your  Sabbaths  in  sweet  communion  with  one 
another,  and  in  holy  communion  with  your  Maker! 
With  what  emotions  would  you  contemplate  so 
wide  a  departure  from  your  pious  usages ! 

I  call  upon  you,  Christians,  —  you  who  lore  your 
religion  and  its  institutions,  and  desire  their  pre- 
servation ;  I  call  upon  you,  citizens,  patriots,  you 
who  love  your  country,  and  desire  its  real  welfare  ; 
to  check  by  your  remonstrances,  to  check  by  your 
example,  the  growing  violations  of  holy  time,  the 
growing  neglect  of  preparation-  for  holy  services. 

I  call  upon  you  all,  immortal  brings,  probation- 
ers for  eternity,  to  prepare  yourselves  for  the  service 
of  GOD'S  house,  and  to  engage  in  it  with  seriou-ii- •  — 
and  holy  reverence.  Never  rise  to  pray,  or  to  offer 


310 


WHAT    IS    NEEDFUL    FOR 


praise,  without  remembering  that  you  rise  to  address 
'  HIM  who  looketh  on  the  heart,'  who  cannot  regard 
iniquity  but  with  abhorrence,  and  to  whom  'the 
sacrifice  of  the  wicked  is  an  abomination.'  He  who 
stands  and  ministers  at  the  altar  is  only  the  appoint- 
ed leader  in  your  devotions.  If  he  were  praying  for 
you,  it  would  seem,  when  the  subjects  are  so  mo- 
mentous, when  your  dearest  interests  are  involved 
in  the  success  of  the  petitions,  that  you  would  not 
be  indifferent,  —  nay,  .that  you  would  hang,  in 
breathless  suspense,  upon  his  Lips,  lest  he  should  fail 
to  ask  what  you  most  need,  or  to  press  your  petition 
with  sufficient  earnestness.  But  he  is  professedly 
praying  with  you ;  and  Oh !  how  thoughtless,  how 
awful  is  it,  to  come  with  feigned  lips,  or  to  turn  away 
your  minds,  and  refuse  to  bear  your  part  in  the 
offering ! 

Lord !  *  Wilt  thou  not  revive  us  again,  that  thy 
people  may  rejoice  in  Thee  ? '  Thou  blessed  Spirit 
who  didst  erst  move  4  upon  the  face  of  the  waters,' 
and  all  was  order,  proportion,  life  and  beauty, 
breathe  into  us  the  breath  of  spiritual  life,  reanimate 
our  languid  powers,  quicken  and  strengthen  our 
graces,  and  rekindle  the  drooping  flame  of  piety  in 
our  breasts !  May  that  sacred  day,  hallowed  and 
consecrated  from  generation  to  generation  by  so 
many  prayers,  and  so  many  vows,  come  to  us 
fraught  with  its  holiest  influences,  and  bearing  the 
message  of  peace  and  reconciliation.  May  the 
praises  we  offer  come  up  as  incense,  the  repent- 
ance we  exercise  be  a  godly  sorrow,  and  the  vows  we 
breathe,  be  accepted  and  registered  in  heaven ! 


THE    HOUSE    OF    GOD.  311 

My  hearers !  We  build  material  temples  for  the 
worship  of  GOD.  We  appropriate  certain  seasons 
to  the  purposes  of  devotion.  We  come  together 
and  unite  in  paying  our  homage  to  the  Creator. 
It  is  well.  GOD  is  the  proper  object  of  worship. 
Material  temples  facilitate  the  united  peformance 
of  it,  and  union  in  worship  may  kindle,  or  keep 
alive,  and  render  more  bright  and  vivid,  the  flame  of 
piety.  But  material  temples,  as  I  have  already 
indicated,  are  not  essential  to  the  worship  of  GOD. 
We  may  worship  GOD  like  Isaac  in  the  field,  or 
like  Jacob  by  the  wayside,  or  like  Elijah  in  the 
desert,  or  like  David  in  the  cavern,  or  like  Peter 
upon  the  house  top,  or  like  our  blessed  Saviour  in 
the  mountain.  For  *  GOD  dwelleth  not  in  temples 
made  with  hands.  Do  not  I  fill  the  heaven  and 
earth,  saith  the  Lord  ?  ' 

Nor  is  union  in  worship  essential,  however  bene- 
iicial  and  delightful.  Isaac  was  alone  when  he 
went  into  the  field  for  the  purposes  of  devotion; 
Jacob  was  alone  when  he  worshipped  by  the  way- 
side; Elijah  was  alone  when  he  communed  with 
GOD  in  the  desert ;  Peter  was  alone  when  he 
prayed  upon  the  house-top;  and  our  blessed  Sa- 
viour, leaving  even  the  chosen  companions  of  his 
earthly  pilgrimage, l  went  up  into  a  mountain,  apart, 
to  pray.'  *  Enter  into  thy  closet  and  shut  thy  door 
and  pray  to  thy  Father  who  is  in  secret,  and  thy 
Father  who  seeth  in  secret  shall  reward  thee  openly.' 

Nor,  further,  is  any  time  exclusively  appropriated 
to  the  worship  of  GOD.  One  day  in  seven,  indeed, 


312  WHAT    IS    NEEDFUL    FOR 

has  been  specially  set  apart  for  this  purpose,  and 
we  are  under  solemn  obligations  sacredly  to  observe 
it,  but  it  would  be  sad  indeed  if  we  must  wait  the 
return  of  the  Christian  Sabbath  to  hold  communion 
with  our  Maker.  *  Every  day  will  I  bless  Thee.' 
'  Morning,  and  evening,  and  at  noon  will  I  pray.' 
Yes !  the  father  may  pray  as  he  labors  for  the  fam- 
ily that  is  dependent  on  his  daily  labor  for  their 
daily  bread,  and  find  his  labor  encouraged  and 
sweetened  by  the  hallowed  influence  of  prayer. 
The  mother  may  pray  as  she  watches  the  sleeping 
infant  that  GOD  has  committed  to  her  charge,  and 
feel  herself  prompted  to  closer  watchfulness  and 
stricter  care,  whilst  she  feels  and  acknowledges  her 
obligations  to  HIM  who  bestowed  it.  We  may 
*  be  fervent  in  spirit,'  whilst  we  are  '  not  slothful  in 
business,'  and  be  offering  sacrifice,  whilst  we  are 
performing  acts  of  kindness  and  me-rcy. 

How  powerful,  Christians,  are  the  motives  to 
habitual  seriousness  and  devotion  !  —  Gratitude,  — 
our  interest  and  happiness,  present  and  future,  for 
time  and  eternity;  our  perishable  bodies,  and  our 
immortal  minds.  Look  round  upon  the  face  of 
nature.  Behold  the  tints  of  autumn  diversifying 
the  trees  of  the  forest.  The  leaves  are  already 
falling,  and  mingling  with  the  earth.  At  all  times 
there  is  a  voice  in  nature  which  reads  a  lesson  of 
divine  wisdom,  and  we  should  attentively  listen. 
It  comes  with  a  deeper  tone  of  interest  when  it 
tells  us  we  are  mortal,  when,  in  the  scenes  which  it 
has  sketched  with  so  much  beauty,  and  arrayed  in 


THE 


OF    GOD.  313 


the  richest  and  most  glowing  colors,  it  presents  us 
with  a  picture  of  our  fate. 

But  the  thoughtless  will  not  heed  this  voice,  if 
they  hear  it,  and  when  they  look  upon  the  face 
of  nature,  it  is  only  with  a  transient  glance,  or  per- 
haps a  glance  of  wonder,  or  of  rapture,  and  not 
with  the  steady  eye  of  contemplation,  which  reads 
the  moral  lesson  it  has  portrayed,  and  reads  to 
learn  and  feel  it.  And  it  is  so  too  much  with  the 
votaries  of  business,  for  the  hum  of  business  has 
drowned  the  voice  of  instruction,  and  the  thick 
vapor  which  surrounds  them  has  obscured  the 
objects  which  might  otherwise  engage  the  attention, 
and  come  with  impression  to  the  heart.  And  it  is 
so  with  those  wrho  are  trifling  away  life,  or  abusing 
it  in  vicious  indulgences.  A  siren's  voice  has  more 
power  to  allure  them  than  the  voice  of  GOD.  They 
follow  the  guide  which  leads  them  along  blindfold, 
and  turn  not  to  the  light  which  irradiates  the  path 
of  duty,  and  true  happiness. 

4  Ah  !  my  friends/  says  the  voice  of  admonition, 
long  ago  addressed  to  the  thoughtless  and  irreli- 
gious, —  l  Ah,  my  friends,  while  we  laugh  and  trillr, 
all  things  are  serious  around  us.  GOD  is  serious  in 
calling  and  bearing  with  us.  Christ  is  serious  who 
shed  his  blood  for  us.  The  Holy  Ghost  is  serious 
who  striveth  against  the  obstinacy  of  our  hearts. 
The  Holy  Scriptures  bring  to  our  ears  the  most 
serious  things  in  the  world.  The  holy  sacraments 
represent  the  rriost  awful  and  affecting  matters. 
The  whole  creation  is  zealous  in  serving  GOD,  and 

VOL.  ii.  27 


314  WHAT    IS    NEEDFUL    FOR 

us.  All  nature  is  full  of  ardent  energy  and  exer- 
tion, and  is  in  constant  labor  and  travail  for  our 
happiness.  All  that  are  in  heaven,  or  hell,  are 
seriously  engaged.  How  then  can  we  sleep  and 
trifle  ?  We  —  for  whose  sake  this  universal  zeal  is 
expended ! ' 

The  associations*  which,  in  this  place,  must 
come  up  to  every  mind,  impel  me  to  dwell  for  a 
few  moments,  before  I  conclude,  on  another  theme. 
We  look  around  upon  a  fair  inheritance.  l  The 
lines  have  fallen  to  us  in  pleasant  places.'  We  are 
enjoying  blessings  such  as  belong  not  to  any  other 
nation  on  earth,  and  these  blessings,  under  GOD, 
are  the  fruit  of  our  fathers'  labors  and  our  fathers' 
blood.  The  generation  which  has  gone  before  us, 
or  is  fast  passing  away,  has  a  title  to  the  veneration 
and  gratitude  of  their  successors,  such  as  we  never 
can  furnish  to  those  who  come  after  us,  —  such 
perhaps,  as  our  descendants  can  never  furnish  to 
the  remotest  posterity. 

The  eventful  period  of  our  country's  history,  of 
which  the  stones  from  these  hills  shall  be  for  a  me* 
mortal^  was  a  period  of  solicitude  and  trial,  of  which 
we  can  now  have  but  a  faint  conception,  and  they 
who  gave  their  days  and  nights  to  consultations  for 
their  country's  safety  and  welfare,  or  devoted  their 
wealth  to  their  country's  support,  or  poured  out 
their  blood  upon  the  altar  of  their  country's  free- 

*  See  Note  at  the  end  of  this  discourse. 


THE    HOUSE    OF    GOD.  315 

dom,  are  worthy  of  all  honor,  if  living,  —  of  all 
veneration,  if  dead.  Their  deeds  should  be  en- 
graven on  the  tablets  of  the  hearts  of  their  country- 
men, and  their  memories  be  held  in  perpetual 
remembrance. 

Let  a  monument  be  erected  on  the  neighboring 
heights ;  let  it  bear  the  inscription  of  the  valor  and 
devoted  attachment  to  their  country  of  those  who 
fought  and  died  there.  Thither  repair,  —  thither 
let  your  children  and  your  children's  children,  — 
and  the  generations  yet  unborn,  —  repair,  to  learn  by 
how  severe  a  struggle,  and  at  how  dear  a  price, 
their  independence  was  achieved,  and  their  dearest 
rights  secured  to  them.  Thither  let  them  repair  to 
cherish  the  flame  of  patriotism,  and  render  it  more 
glowing  and  ardent.  But  this  is  not  all.  Oh  no ! 
it  is  the  least  for  which  they  should  go  thither. 
For  to  what  purpose  would  have  been  their  consul- 
tations for  their  country's  safety,  if  the  wisdom  of 
GOD  had  not  enlightened  their  councils  ?  or  of  what 
avail  would  have  been  the  valor  which  encountered 
danger  and  death  for  their  country's  freedom,  if  the 
arm  of  GOD  had  not  been  made  bare  in  its  defence  ? 
Yes !  —  it  was  HE  who  inspired  their  hearts  with 
courage,  and  nerved  their  arm  with  strength,  who 
4  taught  their  hands  to  war,  and  their  fingers  to  fight.' 
It  was  HE  who  was  *  their  fortress  and  their  high 
tower,  and  their  deliverer.  If,  then,  we  commemo- 
rate the  noble  daring,  the  generous  sacrifices,  the 
patriotic  sufferings,  which  accomplished  the  great 
work  of  our  country's  independence,  let  us  not 


316       WHAT  IS  NEEDFUL  FOR  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 

forget  to  whom  alone  it  belonged  to  render  that 
daring,  and  those  sacrifices  and  sufferings,  effectual. 
Above  all,  let  us  not  forget  to  whom  we  owe  it,  that 
a  far  greater  and  better  redemption  hath  been 
wrought  out  for  us  by  sacrifices  infinitely  more  val- 
uable, and  sufferings  infinitely  more  severe.  In 
every  heart  let  there  be  a  monument  erected  which 
shall  reach  to  heaven,  and  endure  forever,  and  let  it 
bear  this  inscription —  GLORY  TO  GOD. 


317 


NOTE. 


THE  church  at  the  dedication  of  which  this  discourse  was  deliv- 
ered, was  built  of  stone  taken  from  a  quarry  in  the  neighborhood, 
from  which  the  stone  was  taken  for  the  monument  at  Bunker  Hill. 
It  was  also  near  the  residence  of  John  Adams.  It  was  to  these 
circumstances  that  there  was  an  allusion  in  the  conclusion  of  the 
discourse. 


a:- 


318 


ORDER  OF  SERVICES. 


The  following  is  the  Order  of  Performances,  with  the  names  of 
the  officiating  clergymen  at  the  dedication  of  the  Church  in  Milton. 
1. — ANTHEM.  —  '  In  sweet  exalted  strains,'  &c. 
2. — INTRODUCTORY  PRAYER,  by  Mr.  Gannett,  of  Boston. 
3. — SELECTIONS  FROM  SCRIPTURE,  by  Mr.  Greenwood,  of  Boston. 
4. — DEDICATORY  PRAYER,  by  Dr.  Pierce,  of  Brookline, 
5. — DEDICATORY  HYMN,  by  Dr.  Harris,  of  Dorchester. 
6. — SERMON,  by  Dr.  Lowell. 
7. — PRAYER,  by  Dr.  Harris,  of  Dorchester. 
8  — HYMN,  by  Dr.  Harris. 

9. — ANTHEM,  (From  Handel  and  Haydn  Collection.) 
10. — BENEDICTION,  by  Dr.  Richardson,  of  Dorchester. 


319 


SERMON    XLIV. 


THE  WISDOM  AND  GOODNESS  OF  GOD,  AS  MANIFESTED 
IN  THE  APPOINTMENT  OF  MEN,  AND  NOT  ANGELS,  TO 

THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTRY. 
• 

[Preached  at  the  Ordination  of  a  Minister,  in  Lynn,  and  in  Berlin,  Mass.,  1830, 
and  then  first  printed.] 

Hebrews  v.  2.  —  WHO  CAN  HAVE  COMPASSION  ON  THE  IGNORANT,  AND 

ON  THEM    THAT   ARE    OUT    OF    TUB    WAY,  FOR   THAT    HE    HIMSELF  19 
COMPASSED  WITH  INFIRMITY. 

ALL  the  works  of  GOD  are  works  of  wisdom  and 
goodness.  In  saying  this,  I  repeat  what  has  been 
often  said,  —  what,  indeed,  must  be  the  sentiment  of 
every  reflecting  mind,  and  the  feeling  of  every  de- 
vout heart.  But  it  is  well  that  it  should  be  often 
said,  as  it  may  excite  attention  to  the  indications  of 
this  wisdom  and  goodness  where  it  has  not  been 
awakened ;  may  serve  to  strengthen  the  impressions 
of  admiration  and  gratitude  already  excited;  and 
may  lead  to  a  train  of  thought  which  shall  furnish 
new  topics  of  admiration,  and  new  incentives  to 
love  and  obedience. 

I  shall  not  traverse  a  wide  field  in  illustrating  the 


320  THE  WISDOM  AND    GOODNESS  OF  GOD. 

sentiment  I  have  advanced.  It  is  enough  that  I  di- 
rect your  attention  to  that  manifestation  of  wisdom 
and  goodness  which  bears  a  relation  to  the  transac- 
tions of  this  day,  —  which  is  displayed  in  the  adap- 
tation of  the  Christian  ministry  to  the  circumstances 
and  wants  of  mankind.  With  an  opportunity  for 
doing  this,  I  am  furnished  by  the  words  of  the  text, 
*  Who  can  have  compassion  on  the  ignorant,  and 
on  them  that  are  out  of  the  way,  for  that  he  himself 
also  is  compassed  with  infirmity.' 

These  words,  originally  applied  to  the  Jewish 
priesthood,  present  us  with  a  touching  and  beautiful 
description  of  the  nature  of  the  sacred  office.  It  is 
designed  to  enlighten  the  ignorance  and  reform  the 
vices  of  mankind ;  and  it  is  entrusted  to  those  who, 
from  their  consciousness  of  their  own  need  of  in- 
struction in  knowledge  and  virtue,  may  be  supposed 
to  have  a  fellow-feeling  and  sympathy  for  the  igno- 
rant and  vicious. 

I  remark,  then,  that  the  Christian  ministry  is  en- 
trusted to  those  who  are  '  compassed  with  infirmity,' 
and  that  we  discern  in  this  appointment  the  wisdom 
and  goodness  of  GOD.  Such  is  the  theme  of  my 
discourse.  And  may  HE,  to  whom,  in  our  ignorance 
and  infirmity,  we  are  permitted  to  look  for  light  and 
strength,  accompany  the  teaching  of  His  word  with 
the  teachings  of  His  Spirit,  that  what  4  is  sown  in 
weakness,'  may  be  l  raised  in  power.' 

It  would  be  absurd  for  me  to  offer  arguments  to 
prove  that  the  ministry  is  entrusted  to  those  who 
are  '  compassed  with  infirmity.'  i  I  myself  also  am 


Till;    WISDOM   AND    (JOOD.NKSS   OF   GOD. 


a  man ! '  was  the  language  of  the  first  preacher  to  t  lie 
(i entile  world,  and  the  history  of  the  church  bears 
abundant  testimony  that  his  successors  in  every  age 
might  with  emphat  ie  propriety  repeat  the  declaration. 
A  man !  —  what  is  he  ?  A  creature  of  contrarieties 
and  inconsistencies,  —  spiritual  and  material,  i ntel- 
lectual  and  sensual;  resolving,  and  abjuring  his  res- 
olutions ;  sinning  and  repenting ;  to-day,  soaring  on 
the  ardent  wings  of  hope  —  to-morrow,  sunk  in  the 
lowest  depths  of  despair ;  to-day,  basking  in  the 
sunshine  of  prosperity,  —  to-morrow,  enveloped  in 
the  darkest  clouds  of  adversity.  The  history  of  the 
church !  —  what  is  it  ?  The  history,  —  too  often,  — 
of  weakness  and  error,  nay,  of  crime ;  the  history  of 
the  excesses  of  human  passions,  of  discord  and 
strife,  of  bitter  and  endless  disputes  about  the  end- 
less dogmas  of  speculative  theology.  I  would  not 
be  misunderstood,  and  I  therefore  add,  that  if  such 
is  too  much  the  history  of  the  church,  such  it  must 
l.e,  for  these  things  are  public  and  prominent.  It  is 
not  the  history  of  religion,  but  of  false  zeal,  which 
is  obtrusive  and  noisy  and  violent,  breaking  out  into 
wars,  and  overturning  empires,  whilst  religion  is 
silently  diffusing  its  blessings,  secretly,  but  effec- 
tually, working  on  the  human  heart,  and,  in  a  mul- 
titude of  instances,  restraining  those  passions  which 
it  may  not  eradicate.  We  hear  the  rushing  of  the 
tempest  which  levels  the  forest,  and  sweeps  away 
the  fruits  of  human  labor,  while  the  dews  of  heaven 
descend  unnoticed  by  the  common  eye,  though,  by 


322  THE  WISDOM  AND    GOODNESS  OF  GOD. 

their  silent  influence,  they  crown  the  harvest  with 
plenty,  and  make  '  the  valleys  to  laugh  and  sing.' 

It  is  to  man,  thus  weak  and  fallible,  as  history 
and  experience  prove  him,  that  this  ministry  is  com- 
mitted,—  and  how  does  it  manifest  wisdom  and 
goodness?  Is  it  not  in  the  mysterious  and  inex- 
plicable Providence  of  GOD,  that  a  treasure  so 
precious  is  entrusted  to  a  vessel  so  frail  ?  Might  it 
not  have  been  expected  that,  to  guard  against  mis- 
take and  perversion  on  subjects  in  which  our  dear- 
est interests  are  involved,  GOD  himself  would 
condescend  to  address  us?  With  what  awful 
solemnity,  what  entire  conviction,  what  deep  im- 
pression, would  not  the  instruction  then  come  to  the 
heart !  Who  but  would  listen,  believe,  feel,  obey  ? 
GOD  spake  to  the  Israelites  from  Mount  Sinai,  and 
it  was  so  dreadful  that  they  entreated  that  the  word 
should  not  be  spoken  to  them  any  more.  '  And 
they  said  with  Moses,  Speak  thou  to  us,  and  we 
will  hear,  but  let  not  GOD  speak  with  us,  lest  we 
die.'  And  what  was  the  effect  of  this  scene  so  ter- 
rible ?  When  the  awful  scene  had  passed,  and  the 
sound  of  the  voice  no  longer  vibrated  on  the  ears,  — 
yes,  even  while  Moses,  at  their  request,  was  •com- 
muning with  GOD  on  their  behalf,  they  relapsed 
into  idolatry. 

But,  if  it  were  not  suitable  that  GOD  himself 
should  instruct  his  creatures  by  '  a  voice  from 
heaven,'  might  he  not  have  commissioned,  for  this 
work,  those  ministering  spirits  who  surround  his 
throne,  and  are  employed  on  his  errands  of  love 


THE  WISDOM  AND    GOODNESS  OF  GOD.  323 

and  mercy  ?  Would  not  the  ministry  of  angels 
have  been  more  effectual  than  the  ministry  of 
men  ?  Let  the  text  reply,  — '  Who  can  have  com- 
passion on  the  ignorant,  and  on  them  that  are  out 
of  the  way,  for  that  he  himself  also  is  compassed 
with  infirmity.'  Elevated,  as  angels  are,  above 
the  level  of  humanity,  there  would  be  no  com- 
munity of  feeling  between  angels  and  men.  They 
might  bear  the  message  of  peace  and  reconcili- 
ation, they  might  be  convinced  of  its  importance, 
from  the  declaration  of  HIM  whose  word  is  truth ; 
they  might  speak  with  authority,  —  they  might 
speak  with  power,  —  they  might  bring  conviction 
to  many  minds ;  but  this  would  be  all.  The  awe 
inspired  by  the  presence  of  a  celestial  messenger, 
and  the  want  of  sympathy  between  that  messen- 
ger and  those  to  whom  he  was  sent,  would,  in 
most  instances  at  least,  prevent  the  truth,  which 
had  found  a  reception  in  the  understanding,  from 
reaching  the  heart.  Nor  is  this  all.  '  Man  is  born 
to  trouble.'  How  comparatively  cold  and  ineffec- 
tual, in  his  affliction,  would  be  the  consolations  of 
those  who  had  never  suffered !  And  where  could 
be  the  example  of  patient  endurance,  teaching,  more 
effectually  than  the  most  soothing  language  of 
solace,  the  efficacy  of  religion  to  bind  up  the  bro- 
ken heart? 

The  angel  who  appeared  to  Cornelius,  did  not 
preach  the  gospel  to  him,  but  directed  him  to  send 
for  Peter.  The  theme  oa  which  he  was  to  address 
the  centurion,  was  indeed  a  fitter  theme  for  angel's 


324  THE  WISDOM  AND    GOODNESS  OF  GOD. 

tongue,  than  for  that  of  a  mortal,  but  an  angel 
could  not  speak  experimentally  as  the  apostle 
could,  —  consolations  and  hopes  of  the  doctrines  of 
religion  he  promulgated. 

It  is  here  that  the  Son  of  GOD,  who,  having  as- 
sumed our  nature,  had  a  '  fellow-feeling  of  our  in- 
firmities,' is  most  attractive  and  interesting,  and  his 
example  most  useful  to  us ;  it  is  when  he  descends 
to  exhibit  himself  as  partaking  of  the  sensibilities 
and  enduring  the  sorrows  of  humanity.  Had  we 
known  only  that  Jesus  was  the  Son  of  the  Highest, 
that  he  had  been  subjected  to  contempt  and  igno- 
miny, to  persecution  and  death,  and  that,  in  the 
midst  of  all  that  came  upon  him,  he  was  patient 
and  resigned,  we  might  say  '  He  has  indeed  been 
apparently  subjected  to  sufferings  the  most  severe, 
but  who  can  say  that  they  were  sufferings  to  him  ? 
Had  he  the  feelings  of  human  nature  ?  Could  he 
suffer  like  as  we  ?  If  not,  there  is  no  merit  in  his 
resignation,  no  instruction  in  his  example.' 

You  discern  already,  my  hearers,  from  what  has 
been  said,  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  GOD  in 
committing  this  ministry  to  men  like  yourselves, 
conscious  of  infirmities  and  sins,  surrounded  by 
temptations,  oppressed  with  burdens,  and  having 
the  same  need  of  salvation  as  those  to  whom  they 
minister.  You  discern  an  ability,  which  even 
angels  would  not  possess,  of  penetrating  the  re- 
cesses of  the  human  heart,  and  touching  the  secret 
springs  by  which  the  actions  of  men  are  moved. 
The  study  of  themselves  is  the  study  of  human 


THE  WISDOM  AND    GOODNESS  OF  GOD.  325 

nature ;  and  if  they  know  their  own  hearts,  they 
know  much  better  than  angels  could,  how  to  gain 
access  to  the  hearts  of  others. 

Possessed  of  the  same  nature,  actuated  by  the 
SMI  ne  M  I  lections  and  passions,  agitated  by  the  same 
hopes  Miid  tears,  liable  to  the  same  disasters,  heirs 
of  the  same  sorrows  as  their  fellow-men,  they  can 
l»e tier  suit  their  addresses,  than  angels  could,  to  the 
various  tempers,  and  varying  humors,  and  changing 
circumstances  of  mankind.  Acquainted  with  the 
capacity  and  province  of  the  human  understanding, 
its  means  of  acquiring  knowledge,  and  the  obstacles 
to  its  acquisition,  the  best  methods  of  communi- 
cating truth,  and  the  hindrances  to  its  reception  ;  ac- 
quainted, too,  with  the  influence  of  the  imagina- 
tion, —  its  tendency  to  extravagance,  —  and  able  to 
follow  it  in  its  discursive  flights,  they,  better  than 
superior  intelligences,  can  restrain  and  guide  the 
one,  and  inform  and  regulate  the  other.  Conscious 
of  the  existence  of  a  moral  sense  in  man,  and 
knowing  something,  from  their  own  convictions,  of 
the  power  of  conscience,  they  best  can  rouse  it  from 
its  slumbering,  and  give  it  a  voice  and  utterance 
which  shall  make  the  sinner  tremble.  Experimen- 
tally familiar  with  the  difficulties  and  dangers  of 
the  Christian  life,  the  struggles  between  the  flesh 
and  spirit,  the  conflict  with  the  world  and  sin,  the 
deceitfulness  of  the  human  heart,  they  can  best 
portray  these  dilliculties  and  dangers,  best  expose 
the  machinery  of  the  enemy,  and  best  direct  to  the 
means  of  escape  or  victory.  Susceptible,  like 

TOL.    II.  28 


326  THE  WISDOM  AND    GOODNESS  OF  GOD. 

others,  of  joyful  emotions  from  the  occurrences  of 
life,  and  dependent  on  these  occurrences  for  much 
of  their  earthly  happiness,  they  are  better  fitted  by 
their  nature  and  condition,  than  celestial  beings,  to 
take  part  in  the  happiness  of  others,  and  i  rejoice 
with  them  that  rejoice.'  Experiencing,  as  they 
often  do,  the  depressing,  disheartening  influence 
of  those  infirmities  to  which  the  flesh  is  heir,  and 
knowing,  as  they  must  sooner  or  later  know,  from 
their  own  sad  experience,  how  profusely  the  heart 
will  bleed  when  the  closest  ties  are  ruptured,  when 
hopes,  however  fond,  are  blighted,  and  joys,  how- 
ever dear,  are  withered,  they  best  can  sympathize 
with  suffering.  Feeling,  as  it  must  be  supposed 
they  do  feel,  the  power  of  that  religion  which  it  is 
their  honor  and  privilege  to  teach,  and  convinced  of 
its  efficacy  in  imparting  strength  to  the  sinking 
spirit,  and  pouring  light  upon  the  darkened  mind, 
they  can  speak  of  this  power  and  efficacy  with  an 
energy  which  experience  only  can  give.  Mortal 
themselves,  and  sometimes,  if  not  often,  in  'bon- 
dage by  reason  of  death,'  from  a  consciousness 
of  their  own  imperfections  and  sins,  they  can 
have  a  closer,  deeper  sympathy,  than  immortal 
natures  could  have,  with  the  sick  and  dying. 

Nor  is  it  only  in  the  benefit  of  their  sympathy, 
and  the  adaptation  of  their  instructions,  example 
and  prayers  to  the  nature  and  conditions  of  those 
to  whom  they  minister,  that  wisdom  and  goodness 
are  apparent,  in  the  appointment  of  men  to  this 
important  work.  In  their  example,  they  can  speak 


THE  WISDOM  AND    GOODNESS  OF  GOD.  327 

with  incalculably  more  effect  than  any  other  order 
of  beings,  to  the  hearts  of  their  fellow-men.  To 
tin1  example  of  angels  men  could  never  look  for  in- 
struction in  the  duties  and  trials  of  life.  It  can  only 
be  to  those  who  are  frail  and  feeble  and  fallible  like 
themselves.  Such  are  ministers,  —  and,  if  they  are 
humble  in  prosperity,  and  resigned  in  adversity, 
Lrratcful  for  benefits,  and  forgetful  of  injuries,  —  if 
are  meek  and  patient,  and  benevolent,  and  de- 
vout, the  transcript  they  exhibit  of  their  doctrine, 
has  a  strong  tendency  to  bring  conviction  to  the 
mind  of  its  truth  and  power  and  loveliness. 

I  might  go  on,  —  but  I  should  weary  you.  I  have 
said  enough,  I  trust,  to  convince  you,  if  you  needed 
the  conviction,  that  in  the  ministry,  as  it  is  consti- 
tutcd,  the  same  wisdom  and  goodness  are  discern- 
ible as  in  all  the  other  works  of  GOD. 

And  is  there  no  practical  instruction  to  be  gath- 
ered from  this  subject?  CHRISTIAN  MINISTERS! 
there  is  instruction  for  you.  Whilst  you  admonish 
others,  there  is  a  silent,  yet  most  impressive,  moni- 
tor teaching  you  in  the  nature  which  GOD  has 
given  you.  Every  infirmity  of  which  you  are  con- 
scious, both  of  body  and  mind,  —  and  alas!  who 
can  number  them  ?  —  is  giving  you  a  lesson  of  duty. 
Compassed  with  infirmity,  sensible,  as  you  must  be, 
of  weakness,  and  ignorance,  and  unworthiness,  you 
are  taught  humility,  meekness,  forbearance,  forgive- 
ness, and  charity;  kindness,  gentleness,  sympathy 
and  compassion;  xcal,  diligence,  watchfulness  and 
prayer.  Let  it  be  manifest  that  you  are  not  un- 


328  THE    WISDOM    AND    GOODNESS    OF    GOD. 

fruitful  hearers  of  this  voice  which  speaks  within 
you.  Sad  indeed  would  it  be,  —  sad,  did  I  say,  — 
what  term  can  I  use  to  show  forth  its  terribleness  ? 
—  if,  with  such  strong  and  unceasing  admonitions 
and  motives  to  personal  holiness  and  ministerial 
fidelity,  you  should  be  wanting  in  either,  —  if,  after 
having-  preached  to  others,  you  should  yourselves  be 
rejected!  Rejected!  GOD  of  mercy,  save  us  from 
a  doom  so  terrible !  GOD  of  grace,  give  us  grace  to 
be  faithful. 

CHRISTIAN  HEARERS  !  there  is  instruction  for  you. 
Be  thankful  that  the  ministry  of  the  gospel  is  com- 
mitted to  those  who  can  have  a  fellow-feeling  for 
your  infirmities,  sympathize  with  you  in  your  joys 
and  sorrows,  warn  you  of  your  dangers,  and  de- 
scribe, from  their  own  experience,  the  efficacy  of  the 
promises  and  hopes  of  your  religion.  You  expect 
them,  —  and  justly,  —  to  be  eminent  for  their  piety ; 
but  remember  they  are  men,  and,  if  you  discover 
imperfections,  blame  them  not  for  that  nature  which, 
in  so  many  respects,  is  a  just  and  strong  recommen- 
dation. Be  tender  of  their  reputation,  —  it  is  your 
interest  to  be  so.  Be  candid  and  charitable  in  your 
construction  of  their  conduct,  —  you  stand  in  need 
of  this  candor  and  charity  yourselves,  —  and  allow 
them  to  repose  themselves  on  their  characters,  as  a 
security  from  hasty  reproach.  They  have  many 
difficulties  and  trials  in  the  discharge  of  their  duties ; 
many  which  you  know,  and  many  which  are  known 
only  to  themselves.  With  them,  as  with  you,  the 
spirit  is  often  willing  when  '  the  flesh  is  weak ; '  and 


THE    WISDOM    AND    GOODNESS    OF    GOD.          329 

\vhrii  you  seek  an  excuse  for  their  apparent  neglect 
of  you,  or  the  defects  of  their  services,  think  of  your 
(nr/i  nature,  and  find  it  there.  But,  whilst  I  ask 
you  to  cover  their  imperfections  with  the  mantle  of 
charity,  I  would  have  no  mantle  so  broad  as  to 
cover  their  wilful  offences.  'Brethren,  pray  for  us] 
that,  remembering  our  frailty,  we  may  labor  with 
diligence;  and  pray  for  yourselves,  also,  that  we 
may  not  labor  in  vain. 

It  has  not  been  my  purpose,  my  brother,  by  what 
I  have  said,  to  add  to  the  weight  of  those  reflections 
\\hirli  oppress  your  heart  in  the  contemplation  of 
the  transactions  of  this  day.  It  is  true  that  you  are 
compassed  with  infirmity,  and  it  is  also  true  that, 
with  all  this  infirmity,  you  are  about  to  be  entrusted 
\vitii  a  commission  of  inconceivable  importance. 
But,  if  i  we  have  this  treasure  in  earthen  vessels,'  it 
is  '  that  the  excellency  of  the  power  may  be  of  GOD, 
and  not  of  man.'  When  you  are  ready,  like  the 
apostle,  to  exclaim,  *  Who  is  sufficient  for  these 
things?'  may  you  receive,  b'ke  that  apostle,  the 
strength  that  *  is  made  perfect  in  weakness,'  and, 
like  him,  too,  '  glory  in  infirmities,  that  the  power  of 
Christ  may  rest  upon  you.'  Go  forth  to  this  work 
*  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord,  making  mention  of 
his  righteousness,  and  his  only.'  Preach  *  Jesus 
Christ,  and  him  crucified.'  My  brother,  we  may 
diilcr  in  our  interpretation  of  this  charge.  I  know 
not  whether  you  rely,  as  much  as  I  do,  upon  the 
efficacy  of  that  blood  which  was  shed  for  our  re- 
demption, though  I  would  fain  hope  you  do.  '  Hast 
28* 


330  THE    WISDOM    AND    GOODNESS    OF    GOD. 

thou  faith?  Have  it  to  thyself  before  GOD.'  In 
your  preaching  be  plain,  direct,  evangelical,  earnest. 
Be  not  ashamed  to  have  it  manifest  that  your  lips 
give  utterance  to  the  feelings  of  your  heart.  Re- 
member the  aphorism  of  the  ancient  orator  and 
critic,  '  If  you  would  make  me  weep,  weep  your- 
self.' Let  your  soul  go  forth  with  a  force  which 
you  cannot,  —  and  would  not  if  you  could,  —  re- 
strain. Preach,  yes,  preach,  in  the  houses  of  your 
people.  Preach  by  the  wayside.  Watch  for  souls. 
May  your  whole  life,  —  and  for  myself  and  my 
brethren  I  would  breathe  the  same  prayer,  —  be  one 
labor  of  love,  the  overflowings  of  a  soul  fraught 
with  love  to  GOD  and  man. 

And  now,  my  brother,  farewell.  I  commend  you 
to  GOD,  and  to  the  word  of  His  grace,  which  is 
able  to  keep  you  from  falling.  My  heart's  desire 
and  prayer  to  GOD  for  you  is,  that  your  ministry 
may  be  successful,  and  that,  among  this  people 
especially,  you  may  be  the  blessed  instrument  of 
'bringing  many  sons  and  daughters  to  glory.' 


331 


SERMON    XLV. 

WELCOME  TO  A  NATION'S  BENEFACTOR. 

[Concluding  part  of  a  Sermon  on  the  Visit  of  Lafayette,  in  1 824-1 
1   Kings,  i.   11.  —  AND  THE  PEOPLE  REJOICED  WITH  GREAT  JOT. 

DURING  the  past  week,  we  have  witnessed  an 
event  which  is  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  nations. 
The  excitement  it  occasioned  has  not  yet  subsided. 
We  cannot  fail  to  bring  it  with  us  to  this  sacred 
place.  It  mingles  itself  with  our  holy  services. 

The  recital  of  a  page  from  our  nation's  history 
will  illustrate  these  positions. 

A  people,  few  in  number,  and  with  scanty  re- 
sources, are  compelled  to  contend  with  a  powerful 
nation,  for  their  rights  and  privileges. 

At  the  moment  of  their  greatest  need,  when  their 
cause  is  almost  hopeless,  there  appears  among  them 
a  youthful  hero,  who,  by  his  presence  and  the  succor 
he  brings,  revives  their  drooping  spirits,  and  inspires 
them  anew  with  courage  and  ardor.  He  stakes  his 
life  and  fortune  for  their  cause. 

The  work  accomplished,  and  the  blessing  of  GOD 
having  crowned  with  success  the  courage,  resolu- 


332         WELCOME    TO    A    NATION'S    BENEFACTOR. 

tion  and  perseverance  of  the  infant  nation  thus 
contending  for  its  liberty  and  independence,  he 
disappears. 

A  new  generation  comes  into  life;  attains  to 
maturity ;  advances  towards  old  age. 

They  have  learned,  in  infancy,  to  lisp  the  name 
of  the  youthful  stranger  who,  in  the  hour  of  their 
country's  peril,  came  forth  to  help  them.  The  story 
-  of  his  deeds  has  been  their  delight  in  childhood; 
and,  when  they  have  grown  up,  they  have  told  it  to 
their  children,  and  their  children's  children.  They 
have  read  of  it,  and  thought  of  it,  and  spoken  of 
it,  as  a  thing  long  gone  by. 

Nearly  half  a  century  elapses.  This  people  who, 
when  small  and  feeble,  had  struggled  for  their  lib- 
erty, and  achieved  it,  becomes  a  great  and  powerful 
nation.  They  spread  themselves  over  a  vast  conti- 
nent, and  two  millions  become  ten.  New  States 
are  formed.  The  wilderness  blossoms.  Cities  arise 
in  the  midst  of  the  desert.  Learning  and  the  arts 
flourish.  Every  thing  bespeaks  opulence,  strength 
arid  greatness. 

There  comes  one  from  a  distant  land,  to  witness 
this  prosperity,  and  rejoice  in  it. 

He  is  an  old  man.  He  is  a  stranger.  His  fea- 
tures are  not  recognized.  Yet  every  heart  beats 
high  at  his  approach,  and  every  tongue  proclaims 
his  welcome. 

And  how  is  this  ?  What  is  there  in  this  stranger 
to  make  him  an  object  of  so  much  interest,  that  a 
whole  nation  opens  wide  its  arms  to  receive  him ; 


WELCOME    TO    A    NATION^    BENEFACTOR.        333 

and,  with  one  voice,  pronounces  a  blessing  on  him  ? 
What  is  ihriv  in  this  stranger,  that  every  heart 
should  Thrill  at  his  approach;  that  lisping  childhood, 
and  hoary  age,  should  unite  to  hail  him;  should 
press  forward,  with  equal  eagerness,  to  gaze  on  him, 
and  seize  the  hand  that  is  extended  to  all? 

Tliis  stranger  is  he  of  whom  we  have  spoken; 
who,  long  since,  in  the  days  of  our  country's  in- 
fancy, took  up  her  cause,  and  pleaded  for  her  with 
the  powerful,  and  fought  and  bled  in  her  defence. 

This  stranger  is  he  whom  most  of  us  from  our 
earliest  years,  and  some  who  are  now  becoming 
gray  with  age,  have  been  taught  to  reverence  and 
love ;  of  whose  romantic  attachment  to  liberty,  and 
the  just  rights  of  mankind,  whose  wisdom,  and  skill, 
and  valor,  —  even  in  early  life,  —  we  have  read  with 
grateful  admiration  and  enthusiasm. 

This  is  he  whom  a  great  nation  receives  again 
into  its  bosom ;  the  man  whom,  with  one  heart  and 
one  mind,  we  delight  to  honor. 

He  remembered  us  in  our  feeble  state,  and  we  do 
not  forget  him  now  that  we  are  exalted,  and  pros- 
perous, and  happy. 

Well  may  *  the  people  rejoice  with  great  joy.'  It 
is  a  joy  which  th<^  omnipresent  and  omniscient 
Witness  will  approve. 

And  the  object  of  all  this  joy  and  congratulation 
is  worthy  of  it. 

Had  he  come  to  us  bearing  on  his  forehead  the 
mark  of  him  who  was  a  fugitive  and  wanderer  in 
the  earth ;  had  the  winds,  which  bore  him  to  our 


334 


vshores,  been  mingled  with  the  groans  and  shrieks  of 
the  murdered  victims  of  his  ambition  or  cupidity ; 
or  had  he  come  with  a  reputation  defaced  and 
blackened  by  deeds  of  infamy;  or  with  a  body 
broken  down  and  enfeebled  by  vice  and  dissolute- 
ness, there  could  have  been  no  such  joy.  One 
burst,  —  I  will  not  say  of  indignation,  —  but  of 
deep  regret  and  sorrow,  would  have  met  him  on  his 
coming.  But  it  is  not  so.  No.  I  emphatically 
say,  It  is  not  so.  He  comes  to  us  bringing  with 
him  a  reputation  pure  and  spotless ;  a  character  be- 
fore which,  —  were  there  nothing  else,  —  we  might 
well  be  constrained  to  bow  with  reverence.  In 
scenes  the  most  perplexing;  amidst  horrors  the 
most  appalling;  in  the  court  of  a  king;  at  the 
head  of  armies  ;  in  tumultuous  assemblies ;  and  in 
the  recesses  of  a  dungeon ;  he  has  held  fast  his  in- 
tegrity, and  maintained  a  consistency  of  conduct,  I 
believe  I  may  say  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  the 
scenes  through  which  he  has  passed ;  and  a  firm 
adherence  to  principle,  and  to  his  high  and  noble 
purpose,  which  nothing  could  shake  or  turn  aside. 

Distinguished  by  his  patriotism,  as  well  as  his 
attachment  to  this  land  of  his  adoption,  and  emi- 
nent for  his  private  virtues,  as  well  as  for  his  public 
services,  we  need  not  be  ashamed  to  give  distinct 
and  emphatic  utterance  to  our  feelings,  and  to  bid 
him  welcome  with  all  the  enthusiasm  that  is  due  to 
a  great  and  good  benefactor. 

I  repeat  it,  our  joy  and  our  gratitude  are  sanc- 
tioned by  religion,  and  are  acceptable  to  GOD.  It 


was  HE  who  implanted  the  feelings  which  prompt 
to  joy  and  gratitude  ;  and  who  rendered  him  who  is 
the  object  of  them  an  instrument  of  so  much  good 
to  us. 

My  friends,  we  are  Christians;  in  a  Christian 
church,  and  assembled  for  the  purpose  of  Christian 
worship.  It  would  ill  become  us  to  celebrate  an 
earthly  benefactor,  and  pay  no  tribute  to  that  great 
Deliverer  who  came  from  heaven  to  free  us  from 
the  bondage  of  sin,  and  the  power  of  the  grave,  and 
to  translate  us  into  'the  glorious  liberty  of  the  sons 
of  GOD.' 

Whilst  on  the  tablet  of  memory  we  inscribe  the 
deeds  of  those  to  whom,  under  GOD,  our  country 
owes  its  freedom,  we  should  most  deeply  engrave 
there  the  benefits  of  HIM  without  whose  religion 
our  freedom  would  not  have  been  a  blessing  to  us ; 
who,  as  the  inspired  messenger  of  '  his  Father  and 
our  Father,  his  GOD  and  our  GOD,' — *  GOD  manifest 
in  the  flesh,' — has  imparted  the  highest  charm  to 
existence  here,  and  the  only  assurance  of  happiness 
hereafter. 

To  HIM,  be  glory  in  his  church  forever.     Amen ! 


336 


SERMON    XLVI. 


HOSPITALITY  AND   COMPASSION    TO   EMIGRANT  FUGI- 
TIVES FROM  OPPRESSION.* 

[Concluding  part  of  a  Sermon  preached  when  a  collection  was  taken  up  for  the 
relief  of  Polish  fugitives.] 

Matthew  xxv.  35.  —  i  WAS  A  STRANGER,  AND  YE  TOOK  ME  IN. 

I  HAVE  thus  shown  you,  my  hearers,  that  the 
characteristic  of  our  religion  is  benevolence;  that 
benevolent  spirits  heralded  its  advent  with  a  procla- 
mation of  c  good  will  toward  men ; '  that  He  who 
came  to  teach  it  was  full  of  this  spirit  of  love ;  that 
to  do  good  was  the  business  of  his  life ;  that  wher- 
ever he  went,  his  footsteps  were  marked  by  kindness 
and  mercy ;  that  as  he  lived,  he  taught ;  and,  himself 
a  personification  of  GOD'S  love,  so  his  doctrine  was 
love  ;  his  precepts  love. 


*  This  sermon  was  preached  some  time  since,  but  exhortations  to 
hospitality  and  compassion  are  seasonable  in  all  times.  Refugees 
from  oppression  may  often  come  to  us  for  protection  and  succor. 
They  should  never  fail  to  find  it,  let  them  come  from  whence  they 
may.  The  directions  of  Scripture  respecting  one  class  of  fugitives 
will  be  found  in  Deuteronomy  xxiii.  15,  16. 


HOSPITALITY    AND    COMPASSION,    ETC. 


337 


I  have  told  you  that  his  disciples  took  their  lesson 
from  him,  and  went  forth  to  teach  and  practise  it; 
that  they,  too,  declared  that  love  was  the  fulfilling 
of  tlit!  Jaw;  and  remembering,  repeated  the  words 
of  the  Lord  Jesus,  how  he  said,  *  It  is  better  to  give 
than  to  receive.'  I  have  told  you,  further,  that,  set- 
ting aside  what  we  find  in  the  history  of  Judaism, 
not  one  trace  or  vestige  has  come  down  to  us  of 
compassion  for  the  sick  and  the  poor  among  the 
common  orders  of  the  people,  which  was  sanctioned 
by  the  government,  or  the  institutions,  or  general 
measures,  of  any  ancient  nation ;  that  the  world  is 
indebted  to  the  influence  of  Christianity  for  almost 
all  that  lias  since  been  done  for  the  alleviation  of 
human  misery. 

We  have  received  this  religion,  my  hearers,  as 
our  birthright  It  is  happy  for  us  if,  with  the  name, 
we  have  received  its  spirit ;  if  we  have  embraced  it 
with  the  full  conviction  of  the  understanding  and 
the  heart. 

An  opportunity  is  now  afforded  us  to  exercise 
the  benevolence  which  belongs  to  our  religion ; 
which  characterized  its  founder  and  its  early  dis- 
ciples. 

A  people  once  free,  and,  from  their  position  and 
their  character,  holding  an  important  place  among 
the  nations;  but  who,  for  a  century,  have  been 
groaning  under  the  yoke  of  bondage,  have  made  a 
powerful,  but  ineffectual,  effort  to  regain  their  free- 
dom. 

VOL.  ii.  29 


338 


HOSPITALITY    AND    COMPASSION 


Their  story  has  been  briefly,  but  eloquently,  told 
in  the  address  which  was  read  to  you  on  the  last 
Sabbath. 

The  greater  part  of  those  who  were  most  active 
in  the  cause  of  freedom  have  have  been  sent  to 
Siberia ;  a  country  whose  name  freezes  the  heart  of 
sensibility  by  its  association  with  cruelty,  dreariness 
and  misery. 

A  remnant  escaped,  and,  of  these,  a  few  have 
come,  and  are  coming,  to  seek  an  asylum  in  this 
land  of  liberty. 

They  come  from  their  homes,  not  as  travellers, 
to  gratify  an  innocent  and  laudable  curiosity ;  not  as 
voluntary  emigrants,  bringing  with  them  their  fam- 
ilies and  the  fruits  of  their  former  industry ;  but  as 
wanderers,  exiles,  miserable  outcasts. 

Home,  around  which  their  sympathies,  their  affec- 
tions, and  their  hopes  had  clustered ;  home,  in  the 
sound  of  which,  however  poor  and  humble,  there  is 
something  so  inexpressibly  sweet  to  the  ear,  so  dear 
to  the  heart,  —  alas,  there  is  no  home  for  them ! 

If  they  had  families,  where  are  they?  It  may 
be,  that  they  have  perished  in  the  flames  of  their 
own  dwellings ;  or  that  their  blood  has  moistened 
the  soil  which  had  been  tilled  for  their  subsistence ; 
or  that  they  have  been  driven,  in  chains,  to  the 
wilds  of  Siberia,  to  drag  out  existence  in  wretched 
slavery. 

These  fugitives,  for  whom  I  now  plead,  have 
come  from  their  homes,  friendless  and  penniless ; 
with  heart-rending  recollections  of  the  past,  and 
saddening  uncertainties  in  the  future. 


TO    EMIGRANT    FUGITIVES.  339 

But  they  have  come  among  those  who  can  feel 
for  their  misfortunes,  —  their  misery,  —  and  will  be 
prompt  to  relieve  them.  They  have  come  among 
those  who  are  enjoying  the  freedom  which  they 
had  struggled  in  vain  to  recover ;  who  would  have 
rejoiced  in  their  success ;  and  deeply  deplore  their 
defeat. 

They  have  come  among  those  who  are  blessed  in 
the  possession  of  kindred,  and  country,  and  home ; 
and  who  can  feel  for  those  who  have  no  kindred, 
and  country,  and  home ;  to  whom  the  wide  world 
is  a  dwelling-place ;  and  that  dwelling-place  dreary 
and  desolate. 

They  have  come,  too,  at  a  period  peculiarly  aus- 
picious to  them;  when  our  country  is  about  to 
celebrate  the  anniversary  of  its  independence ;  that 
independence  for  which  some  of  the  best  lives  of 
their  country  were  jeoparded,  and  for  which  some 
of  its  richest  blood  was  shed. 

They  have  come  when  we  are  bending  with  sor- 
row at  the  grave  of  one  who,  like  them,  a  stranger, 
in  the  darkest  hour  of  our  country's  peril,  took  up 
her  cause  and  pleaded  for  her  with  the  powerful, 
and  fought  and  bled  in  her  defence. 

It  may  well  be  that  our  joy  for  our  freedom 
should  be  hallowed  by  our  hospitality  and  kindness 
to  those  who  have  lost  their  liberty. 

It  may  well  be  that  we  should  deem  that  the 
noblest  monument  we  can  erect  to  the  memory  of 
Lafayette  and  his  associates  in  the  work  of  free- 
dom, which  is  reared  by  the  hand  of  charity ;  and 


340  HOSPITALITY    AND    COMPASSION,    ETC. 

that  we  should  all  be  eager  to  bring  our  portion  of 
the  precious  materials  which  compose  it. 

1  I  WAS  A  STRANGER,  AND  YE  TOOK  ME  IN.'     It  is  the 

Saviour ;  He  who  came  to  deliver  us  from  the  most 
wretched  bondage,  —  the  bondage  of  sin,  who  thus 
speaks. 

There  is  a  powerful  appeal  to  us  in  the  language 
of  the  committee  to  whom  it  has  been  entrusted  to 
solicit  aid  for  these  necessitous  strangers.  There  is 
a  powerful  appeal  in  the  recollection  of  the  cause 
in  which  they  are  suffering ;  and  of  the  sympathy 
and  aid  we  received  from  their  fathers  in  the  dark- 
est hour  of  our  country's  fortunes.  There  is  a 
powerful  appeal  in  the  horrors  they  have  endured, 
and  in  the  state  of  entire  destitution  in  which  they 
have  come  to  us.  But  to  the  Christian  there  is  a 
still  more  powerful  appeal  in  the  admonition  of 
the  Saviour,  and  in  the  recollection  that,  by  our 
compassion  to  the  miserable,  we  testify  our  affec- 
tion to  Him. 

He  dwells  no  longer  in  this  troubled  scene.  He 
has  gone  to  take  possession  of  his  kingdom,  and  is 
exalted  far  above  the  reach  of  all  those  sufferings 
and  sorrows  which  embitter  the  life  of  man.  But 
the  afflicted,  the  poor,  you  have  always  with  you. 
They  are  the  brethren  of  Jesus,  and  this  is  the  lan- 
guage in  which  He  recommends  them  to  your  benefi- 
cence. '  VERILY  I  SAY  UNTO  YOU,  INASMUCH  AS  YE 

DO  IT  UNTO  THE  LEAST  OF  ONE  OF  THESE  MY  BRETH- 
REN, YE  DO  IT  UNTO  ME.' 


341 


SERMON  XLVII. 


JERUSALEM. 

Lamentations,  i.  1.  —  HOW  DOTH  THE  CITY  SIT  SOLITARY  THAT  WAS 
FULL  OF  PEOPLE!  HOW  HAS  SHE  BECOME  A  WIDOW!  SUE  THAT 
WAS  GREAT  AMONG  THE  NATIONS,  AND  PRINCESS  AMONG  TME  PRO- 
VINCES, HOW  HAS  SHE  BECOME  TRIBUTARY  ! 

SUCH  was  the  exclamation  of  the  prophet,  as  he 
looked  upon  the  capital  of  his  country,  a  prey  to  its 
enemies,  and  beheld,  in  prophetic  vision,  its  future 
destiny,  when  the  denunciations  of  the  Almighty 
were  still  further  fulfilled,  and  the  devoted  city, 
having  filled  up  the  measure  of  its  iniquities,  was 
reaping  their  bitter  fruit. 

Such  must  be  the  language  of  every  Hebrew 
pilgrim,  when  he  visits  the  land  of  his  father's  sepul- 
chres, and  comes  first  in  view  of  the  venerated 
place  which  the  prophet  had  once  described  as  '  the 
perfection  of  beauty.' 

It  is  impossible  that  any  language  can  be  more 
appropriate  to  its  present  condition  ;  any  delinea- 
tion more  just;  any  imagery  more  vivid,  than  is 
29* 


342  JERUSALEM. 

contained  in  these  few  words,  i  How  doth  the  city 
sit  solitary  !  '  It  sits  alone ;  amidst  a  scene  of  de- 
solation of  which  no  adequate  idea  can  be  present- 
ed to  the  mind  of  one  who  has  not  beheld  it. 

It  has  been  permitted  me  to  look  on  that  scene. 
The  visions  of  childhood,  the  fond,  but  faint,  anti- 
cipations of  mature  life,  have  been  realized. 

I  have  seen  Jerusalem,  and  all  the  hallowed  spots 
around  it;  and,  as  I  remembered  what  eyes  had 
gazed  on  that  scene,  what  feet  had  trod  that  sacred 
soil,  what  lips  had  uttered  there  the  words  of  peace 
and  consolation,  how  was  I  overpowered  by  the 
emotions !  What  a  crowd  of  holy  recollections 
thronged  upon  my  mind  ! 

"We  had  visited  the  scenes  most  rich  in  classic 
and  historic  lore.  I  had,  myself,  been  admitted  a 
member  of  a  learned  society  in  Athens,  at  a  meet- 
ing of  that  society,  —  its  members  sitting  on  the 
fallen  pillars  and  capitals  of  the  Parthenon,  so  dear 
to  the  memory  of  every  scholar.  The  plain  of  Ma- 
rathon, the  groves  of  Academus,  the  fields  of  Troy, 
Corinth,  the  Hellespont,  Constantinople,  i  Queen  of 
the  East,'  Cyprus  and  Rhodes,  had  passed  under 
our  view. 

We  had  been  where  the  first  of  poets  had  sung, 
the  most  eloquent  of  orators  declaimed,  and  the 
chief  of  the  apostles  revealed  to  the  inquisitive 
Athenians,  the  knowledge  of  the  only  true  GOD. 

We  had  stood  in  the  forum  at  Rome;  in  the 
Acropolis  at  Athens  ;  and,  above  all,  on  Mars 
hill. 


JERUSALEM.  343 

But  what  was  all  this  to  the  scene  on  which  we 
were  now  permitted  to  look  ? 

'  Those  holy  fields, 

Over  whose  acres  walked  those  blessed  feet, 
Which,  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  were  nailed 
For  our  advantage  to  the  bitter  cross.' 

We  entered  Syria  at  Jaffa,  the  ancient  Joppa,  — 
whither  Jonah  '  lied  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord,' 
win  TO  Peter  raised  Dorcas  to  life,  and,  as  he  dwelt 
in  the  house  of  'one  Simon,  by  the  sea-side,'  saw 
the  vision  which  taught  him  that  GOD  was  *  no  re- 
specter of  persons,'  and  prepared  him  to  open  the 
door  of  salvation  to  the  Gentile  world. 

We  passed  by  Lydda,  where  the  same  Peter,  in 
the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  had  restored  health  to 
Eneas  who  had  been  *  eight  years  a  paralytic ; '  and 
over  the  plain  of  Sharon,  once  decorated,  and,  at 
certain  seasons,  now  decorated,  with  a  profusion  of 
beautiful  flowers,  —  an  unenclosed,  undulating  plain, 
extending  eastward  to  the  <  mountains  which  stand 
round  about  Jerusalem,' —  and  northward  to  Carmel, 
whose  *  excellency  had  departed,'  for  the  curse  de- 
nounced by  the  prophet  had  been  fulfilled,  and  its 
4  top '  had  '  withered.' 

We  tarried  a  night  at  Ramlah,  the  ancient  Ari- 
mathea,  the  city  of  Joseph,  in  whose  tomb  was  laid 
the  body  of  our  Lord;  and  which  is  probably  the 
birth-place  and  burial  place  of  Samuel,  where  he 
anointed  Saul  to  be  the  first  king  of  Israel. 

We  traversed  the  mountainous  country,  so  sim- 


344 


JERUSALEM. 


ply  described  in  the  gospels  as  '  the  hill  country  of 
Judea,'  where  the  mother  of  our  Lord  went  to 
salute  her  cousin  Elizabeth. 

A  ruthless  and  continuous  tyranny  of  eighteen 
centuries  had  passed  its  withering  hand  over  these 
gardens  of  Ephraim,  and  all  was  sterile  and  deso- 
late. 

Notwithstanding,  however,  the  present  sterility, 
there  are  indubitable  marks  of  ancient  and  exten- 
sive cultivation.  The  traces  of  terraces  for  vines 
are  every  where  visible,  reminding  us  of  the  denun- 
ciations of  the  prophet  upon  the  '  drunkards  of 
Ephraim,'  so  literally  fulfilled,  for  '  the  glorious 
beauty,'  which  was  in  '  the  fat  valley,'  has  indeed 
become  a  <  fading  flower.' 

Passing  along  though  a  narrow  defile,  where  only 
one  person  could  pass  at  a  time,  and  over  a  road, 
—  if  so  it  might  be  called,  —  filled  with  stones,  and 
apparently  the  bed  of  a  mountain  torrent,  we  per- 
sued  our  wearisome  way  through  as  dreary  and  de- 
solate a  country  as  can  well  be  imagined.  But  we 
were  heedless  of  dreariness  and  wearisomeness,  for 
our  thoughts  were  bent  on  the  object  we  had 
travelled  so  many  thousand  miles  to  contemplate, 
and  our  eager  eyes  were  strained  to  the  utmost,  if, 
haply,  at  every  ascent  that  we  reached,  we  might 
descry  it.  Again  and  again  we  were  disappoint- 
ed. 

After  several  hours'  travel,  we  entered  an  elevated 
plain,  strewed,  —  I  may  say,  covered  —  with  loose 
rocks  and  stones,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach ; 


JERUSALEM. 


343 


these  rocks  perforated  on  every  side,  as  if  they  had 
been  aeted  upon  by  some  powerful  element. 

Suddenly  a  line  of  Gothic  walls,  flanked  by 
square  towers,  with  minarets,  and  the  tops  of  a 
few  houses  above  them,  appeared  before  us. 

It  was  JERUSALEM  !  Jerusalem  *  sitting,'  as  I  have 
said,  —  as  the  prophet,  many  centuries  ago,  had 
said,  —  sitting  *  solitary.' 

That  graphic  portraiture  of  its  widowhood  was 
indeed  here  found  to  be  drawn  to  the  very  lifr. 

And  was  it  indeed  Jerusalem  ?  Jerusalem  standing, 
—  it  may  be, — where  the  city  of  Melchizedeck,  who 
blessed  Abraham,  had  stood; — Jerusalem,  built  by 
the  grandson  of  Noah ;  taken  by  Joshua  as  the  chief 
place  of  the  promised  land ;  where  *  David  fixed  his 
royal  throne ; '  where  was  Mount  Zion ;  and  the 
temple  of  Solomon,  '  the  wonder  of  the  world  ; ' 
above  all,  where,  two  thousand  years  after  its  erec- 
tion, a  *  greater  than  Solomon'  appeared,  and  that 
fearful  tragedy  was  enacted  which  brought  swift 
destruction  on  its  actors,  but  pardon,  and  peace,  and 
life,  and  immortality  to  the  penitent,  throughout  the 
world. 

'  His  blood  be  upon  us  and  our  children,'  was  the 
imprecation  of  the  deluded  Jews,  and  how  fearfully 
was  it  fulfilled!  Before  that  generation  had  passed 
away,  —  as  the  Saviour  foretold,  —  Jerusalem  was 
a  heap  of  ruins,  and,  of  its  proud  temple,  <  not  one 
stone  was  left  upon  another.' 

The  present  walls  of  the  city  were  built  by  the 
Turkish  Sultan  Solyman,  about  three  hundred  years 
ago. 


346 


JERUSALEM. 


Near  the  gate  of  entrance  on  the  Jaffa  side,  is  a 
cave,  in  which  the  prophet  is  said  to  have  written 
the  book  from  which  the  words  of  my  text  are  taken, 
and,  not  far  off  is  the  '  upper  pool  of  Gihon,'  where 
Solomon  was  anointed  king,  by  Zadoc  the  high 
priest;  and,  on  the  way  to  which,  'near  the  Fuller's 
field,'  the  prophet  met  Ahaz. 

We  could  identify  the  <  Fuller's  field,'  —  still  so 
called, —  and  we  almost  thought,  that,  with  our  guide- 
book, the  Bible,  we  could  identify  the  very  spot  on 
which  the  prophet  delivered  his  message  to  the 
king. 

Every  where,  indeed,  in  the  East,  we  had  striking, 
and  often  beautiful  illustrations  of  Scripture.  How 
often  have  we  seen  the  shepherd  leading  his  flock, 
as  the  l  good  Shepherd,'  is  said  to  have  done!  He 
still  '  calleth  them  all  by  their  name,'  as  in  ancient 
time,  and  <  they  know  his  voice,  but  the  voice  of  a 
stranger  they  do  not  know.' 

How  often  have  we  seen  the  *  two  women  grind- 
ing at  the  mill ! '  How  often  have  '  the  maidens  at 
the  well  by  the  wayside,'  whither  they  had  gone  '  to 
draw  water,'  taken  down  the  pitcher  '  from  their 
shoulder  '  to  '  give  us  drink  ! ' 

On  the  same  side  of  the  city  with  the  Jaffa  gate, 
a  deep  ravine  still  bears  the  name  of  '  the  Valley  of 
Hinnom,'  where  the  idolatrous  Hebrews  offered 
sacrifice  to  false  gods,  and  'where  a  perpetual  fire 
was  kept  up  which  destroyed  every  thing  that  was 
thrown  into  it. 

A  little  'beyond  is  the  '  Potter's  field,'  which  was 


JERUSALEM.  347 

purchased  with  the  price  of  the  Saviour's  blood ; ' 
and  in  \\hich  are  many  tombs,  some  of  which, — 
as  is  usual  in  Syria  and  Egypt,  —  furnished  dwell- 
ing-places for  the  poor  inhabitants. 

It  was  on  Saturday,  the  third  of  August,  1839, 
that  we  entered  the  city ;  and,  if  we  had  respond- 
ed to  the  prophet's  exclamation,  '  How  doth  the 
city  sit  solitary ! '  when  we  approached  it  and 
stood  at  its  gates,  how  much  more  ready  were  we 
now  to  exclaim,  with  the  same  prophet, 4  Is  this  the 
city  that  men  called  the  perfection  of  beauty?' 
The  streets  were  narrow^  crooked,  uneven,  filthy ; 
the  pavement,  —  where  there  was  one,  —  broken. 
The  plague,  —  though,  in  most  places,  it  does  not 
exist  in  the  extreme  heat  of  summer,  or  the  extreme 
cold  of  winter,  —  was  still  committing  its  ravages 
here. 

The  Sepulchre  of  Christ,  Calvary,  and  the  rock 
rent  by  the  earthquake,  —  so  tradition  designates 
them,  —  are  all  contained  within  the  walls  of  a 
church,  originally  built  over  them  by  the  Empress 
Helena,  the  mother  of  Constantino  the  Great ; 
whose  ill-guided  superstition  has  done  not  a  little 
to  baffle  the  curiosity  of  the  Christian  travel  hi. 

On  entering,  you  find  the  Turkish  and  Arab  sol- 
diers, who  guard  the  church,  seated  smoking,  and 
drinking  coffee. 

Before  you,  is  a  large  marble  slab,  over  which  are 
suspended  lamps,  or  lanterns,  one  burning;  and  on 
this  slab,  —  as  you  are  told,  —  the  body  of  Jesus 
was  laid,  to  be  anointed  and  embalmed,  previous 
to  its  interment. 


348  JERUSALEM. 

On  the  left,  at  a  little  distance,  is  a  small  oblong 
building,  immediately  under  the  dome. 

You  enter  it  by  a  low  door,  and  observe  in  the 
centre  of  a  small,  square  room,  a  block  of  polished 
marble,  on  which,  it  is  said,  the  angel  sat  who 
announced  the  glad  tidings  of  the  resurrection  to 
the  two  Marys.  Near  to  this  is  another  door, 
through  which,  stooping,  you  enter  a  second  apart- 
ment, about  large  enough  to  contain  three  or  four 
persons.  In  a  recess,  is  a  sarcophagus  of  white  mar- 
ble. It  is  without  ornament,  and  covers  the  place, 
where,  according  to  tradition,  —  and,  I  am  inclined 
to  believe,  according  to  fact,  — '  the  Lord  was  laid.' 

There  are  seven  lamps  constantly  burning  over 
it ;  and  a  coarse  painting,  and  some  pots  of  artificial 
flowers,  are  ranged  on  a  shelf  above  it. 

On  leaving  this  apartment,  you  ascend  about 
twenty  steps,  to  the  place  of  the  crucifixion.  Here 
are  shown  the  holes  in  which  the  crosses  of  the 
Saviour,  and  the  two  malefactors  who  were  cruci- 
fied with  him,  were  fixed  in  the  ground,  and,  not  far 
from  this,  the  rent  in  the  rock. 

It  would  be  well  if  it  stopped  here ;  but  you 
have  the  place  pointed  out  where  Jesus  appeared  to 
Mary  Magdalene,  and  that  where  the  centurion 
went  to  weep  after  the  crucifixion ;  and  even 
where  the  cock  crowed,  reminding  Peter  of  the 
Saviour's  words,  i  Before  the  cock  crow,  thou  shalt 
deny  me  thrice.'  I  hint  at  these  few  things  as  a 
specimen  of  the  absurd  stories  which  are  told  by 
the  priests  who  conduct  visitants,  and  the  conse- 


JERUSALEM. 


349 


quent  air  of  doubt  which  is  thrown  over  objects  the 
most  int  crest  ini:. 

It  is  a  relief  to  turn  to  other  scenes,  on  which 
the  mind  may  repose  itself  with  confidence  and 
delight.  The  face  of  nature  still  endures.  The 
rocks,  the  mountains,  the  valleys  are  there.  Mount 
Zion,  Gethsemane,  and  Olivet  are  there. 

On  the  day  after  our  arrival,  we  went  out  to  the 
Mount  of  Olives. 

We  passed,  on  Mount  Moriah,  near  to  the 
mosque  of  Omar,  which  stands,  as  is  doubtless 
erroneously  said,  on  the  site  of  the  ancient  temple  ; 
and  by  the  pool  of  Bethesda,  a  reservoir  about  one 
hundred  and  forty  feet  long,  and  forty  wide ;  dry, 
and  half  filled  up.  Here  the  lambs,  destined  for 
sacrifice,  were  washed;  and  it  was  on  the  brink  of 
this  pool  that  Christ  said  to  the  paralytic,  *  Rise, 
take  up  thy  bed  and  walk.' 

Leaving  the  city  by  St.  Stephen's  gate,  through 
which  this  proto-martyr  is  said  to  have  been  led  to 
be  stoned,  we  descended  the  mount,  or  hill,  on  which 
Jerusalem  stands,  to  the  bridge  which  crosses  the 
brook  Kedron,  then  dry,  but,  in  winter,  a  mountain 
torrent  pur-n'mir  its  way  through  the  valley  of 
Jehoshaphat,  to  the  Dead  Sea. 

On  this  side  of  the  Mount,  is  the  fountain  of 
Siloam,  which  'flowed  fast  by  the  oracle  of  GOD;' 
and  To  which  you  descend  into  the  hill  itself  by  a 
number  of  steps.  \ot  far  oil',  is  the  pool  of  Siloam, 
with  which  the  fountain  lias  connection  through 
the  hill,  —  to  which  our  Saviour  sent  the  blind  man 

VOL.  ii.  30 


350 


JERUSALEM. 


to  wash  and  be  healed,  and  which  is  supposed  by  the 
natives,  to  possess  virtue  in  healing  diseases  of  the 
eyes.  It  is  a  small  pool  of  transparent  water, 
stoned,  and  a  stream  issues  from  it,  which  descends 
the  hill  into  a  reservoir  at  its  foot. 

Crossing  the  brook  Kedron,  we  came  to  a  piece 
of  ground  enclosed  by  a  stone  wall,  —  partly  dilap- 
idated, containing  eight  olive-trees,  apparently  of 
great  age.  This  was  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane. 
So  tradition  has,  I  believe,  uniformly  testified.  And 
it  may  really  be  so.  It  is  certainly  on  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  whither  Jesus  was  wont  to  resort  with  his 
disciples,  and,  therefore,  has  doubtless  been  hallowed 
by  the  footsteps  of  the  Redeemer.  It  may  be  that 
he  has  knelt  and  prayed  there  to  '  his  Father  and 
our  Father.'  It  may  be  that  he  there  endured  his 
agony,  and  manifested  a  submission  as  unparalleled 
as  his  sufferings. 

It  was,  in  that  quarter  of  the  world,  the  first 
Sabbath  of  the  month,  and  my  thoughts  were  with 
those,  —  far  off, — who  are  accustomed  on  the  first 
Sabbath  of  the  month,  especially  to  meditate  on 
the  sufferings  and  death  of  the  Saviour. 

I  would  fain  have  spoken  to  them  then,  in  lan- 
guage such  as  Gethsemane  would  inspire.  Or 
rather,  I  would  fain  have  had  them  with  me,  to 
listen  to  the  voiceless  teachers  whose  silent  elo- 
quence would  reach  the  heart  in  tones  of  deeper, 
more  thrilling  interest,  than  words  could  utter. 

The  scene  has  vanished. —  Gethsemane  and  the 
Mount  of  Olives  are  far  away.  Jerusalem,  in  its. 
widowed,  solitary  state,  is  no  longer  before  me. 


JERUSALEM.  351 

But  I  hear  those  voiceless  teachers  still.  They 
speak  of  suileriiiirs  endured  for  me,  for  you;  —  of  the 
unequalled  agony,  and  propitiatory  death  of  Jesus. 
Every  day  may  we  remember  him,  and  may  the 
remembrance  constrain  us  to  live  to  him,  who  lived 
and  died  for  us. 


With  Jerusalem,  the  ruins  of  Balbec,  near  the 
foot  of  Mount  Lebanon,  and  the  beautiful  city  of 
Damascus,  ended  our  journey  to  Palestine  and 
Syria  ;  and  with  the  ruins  of  Thebes,  the  tombs  of 
Sesostris  and  the  Pharoahs,  and  the  Red  Sea,  our 
visit  to  Kirypt,  and  the  East. 

We  returned  to  Europe  through  the  Adriatic,  — 
pa— ini:  the  island  immortalized  by  the  shipwreck 
of  St.  Paul,  —  to  Trieste,  to  Vienna  and  Venice; 
then  through  Italy  to  France,  and  from  France  airain 
to  England. 

We  were  absent  from  Paris  two  years,  and,  in 
this  extended  journey  through  the  north  and  south 
of  Europe,  in  Asia  and  Africa,  —  of  many  thou- 
sand miles,  —  no  obstacle,  of  any  importance,  op- 
posed our  progress  ;  no  accident  occurred  ;  no  insult 
was  offered  us;  not  an  uiiKiiid  word  is  remembered 
as  spoken  to  us.  As  we  proceeded,  the  anticipated 
1  lions'  fled  at  our  approach;  the  mountains  be- 
came plains,  l  and  the  rough  places  smooth.' 

We  had  been  in  the  midst  of  the  plague  in  the 
Holy  City.  We  were  unarmed,  \vith  the  wild  Arabs 
of  the  desert  in  the  deep  glens ;  on  the  rocky,  precipi- 


352 


JERUSALEM. 


tous  cliffs ;  on  the  high  mountains,  and  on  the  solitary 
plains.  They  have  guarded  and  guided  us ;  they 
have  carried  us  in  their  arms  where  it  was  dan- 
gerous or  difficult  for  us  to  trust  ourselves  ;  receiving 
only  a  kind  recognition  of  their  services,  and  such 
pecuniary  compensation  as  we  thought  proper  to 
give  them.  I  have,  myself,  slept  on  the  sandy 
desert  plain,  of  many  miles  extent,  with  no  resting- 
place  but  the  sand,  no  canopy  but  the  starry 
heavens,  and  no  one  near  me  but  the  Egyptian 
muleteer  who  was  conducting  me  between  Cairo 
and  the  Red  Sea. 

But  we  remembered  who  had  said  {  Fear  not,  I 
am  with  thee  ; '  and,  '  trusting  under  his  wing,'  we 
were  not  *  afraid  of  the  terror  by  night,  or  the 
arrow  that  flieth  by  day,'  of  *  the  pestilence  that 
walketh  in  darkness,  or  the  destruction  that  wasteth 
at  noonday.'  We  trusted  in  HIM,  and  were  de- 
livered. We  trusted  in  HIM,  and  are  here,  to 
*  think  of  his  loving-kindness,'  —  as  we  do  this 
day,  —  '  in  the  midst  of  the  temple.' 

4  BLESS  THE  LORD,  O  OUR  SOULS,  AND  ALL  THAT  is 

WITHIN  US,  BLESS  HlS  HOLY  NAME  !  BLESS  THE  LORD, 
O  OUR  SOULS,  AND  FORGET  NOT  ALL  HlS  BENEFITS  !  ' 

AMEN  and  AMEN. 


303 


NOTES 

T  >  Tin:  .-KRM  .X  ON  JERUSALEM  AND  SYRIA. 


ON  our  way  from  Ramlah  to  Jerusalem,  we  passed  through  the 
valley  of  Elah, —  a  beautiful  valley,  —  that  is  designated  a>  the 
i  which  Saul  defeated  the  Philistines.  We  crossed  a  stream, 
which,  as  it  runs  through  the  valley,  is  naturally  enough  supposed 
to  he  the  brook  from  which  David  took  the  '  five  smooth  stones'  with 
which  he  smote  the  Philistine  champion. 

In  Jerusalem,  and  probably  in  other  cities  in  the  East,  there  is  a 
small  gate  calle-1  the  '  Nei-  lie's  Eye,'  at  the  side  of  each  of  the  large 
gates  of  the  city  ;  through  which  pedestrians  go  in  and  out.  The 
camels,  with  their  burthens,  are  driven  through  the  large  gate,  but 
cannot  go  through  the  small  gate  without  being  stripped  of  their 
burdens.  Is  there  not  an  allusion  to  this  in  the  proverbial  saving, 
which  is  used  by  our  Saviour  in  reference  to  a  rich  man  who  trusts 
in  his  riches,  entering  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ? 

The  houses  in  Pali-tine,  and  the  East  generally,  have  flat  roofs, 
on  which  the  occupants  of  the  houses  are  accustomed  to  sleep,  with 
stairs  often,  if  not  always,  on  the  outside  of  the  house,  so  that,  in 
descending  to  the  street,  it  is  not  necessary  to  go  through  the  house. 
We  have  here  an  explanation  of  our  Saviour's  injunction,  Matthew 
«iv.  17. 

The  thermometer   (Fahrenheit)  at  Jerusalem,  August  Itli. 
at  6  o'clock,  A.  M.  was  68°.     On  the  5th,  at  the  same  lion 
On  the  7th,  at  7  o'clock,  A.  M.  6|°.     It  was  probably  considerably 
higher  some  part  of  the  day.     On  the  day  before  we  reached  Jeru- 
salem, it  was  90°  in  the  course  of  the 

An  accident  befel  the  thermometer,  which  rendered  it  useless  dur- 
ing the  remainder  of  our  journey  in  the  East. 
30* 


354  NOTES.  . 

Near  to  Bethlehem,  which  is  about  six  miles  from  Jerusalem,  is  a 
small  Turkish  building,  that  is  said  to  cover  the  grave  of  Rachel, 
the  wife  of  the  patriarch  Jacob. 

We  discovered  a  large  aperture  in  the  back  of  the  building, 
through  which  we  entered,  and  found  a  conical  heap  of  stones  care- 
fully laid  together  and  plastered;  which,  if  not  the  monument  itself, 
may  occupy  the  place  of  the  monument  that  the  patriarch  raised  to 
the  memory  of  his  beloved  wife. 

Its  situation  is,  as  described  in  Scripture,  'near  to  Ephrath, 
which  is  Bethlehem.' 

The  Mahometans  regard  with  great  veneration,  and  preserve  with 
great  care,  the  graves  of  the  patriarchs  and  prophets  of  the  Old 
Testament,  and  of  all  connected  with  them.  The  grave  of  the  be- 
loved wife  of  Israel,  the  Israelites  would,  doubtless,  have  guarded 
with  peculiar  care. 

The  idea  that  we  might  be  standing  on  the  spot  where  they  *  buri- 
ed Rachel,'  excited  emotions  which  may,  perhaps,  be  conceived,  but 
which  cannot  be  described. 

Bethlehem  is  still  entitled  to  the  designation  of '  the  least  among  the 
princes  of  Judah.'  It  is  a  small,  inconsiderable  place,  remarkable 
chiefly  for  the  poverty  of  its  inhabitants,  who  are  nearly  all  nominal 
Christians,  and  maintain  themselves  by  the  manufacture  of  beads, 
crucifixes,  and  other  sacred  symbols,  which  they  work  in  mother-of- 
pearl,  or  the  fruit  of  the  dome  palm.  The  latter,  brought  from 
Mecca,  becomes  as  hard  as  ivory,  and  is  dyed  of  various  colors. 
They  make  some  beads,  also,  of  a  coral  called  Jussuah,  which  is 
found  in  the  Red  Sea,  and  takes  a  brilliant  color,  though  it  is  sel- 
dom found  without  flaws. 

The  place  designated  by  tradition  as  the  place  of  the  Saviour's 
birth,  is  enclosed  in  a  church  connected  with  a  monastery  of  Fran- 
ciscans. You  descend  by  a  long,  narrow  subterranean  passage,  and 
come  to  a  small  chapel,  where  an  altar  marks  the  spot  on  which, 
—  you  are  told,  —  was  the  manger  in  which  the  Holy  Infant  was 
laid. 

There  is  much  decoration  and  finery  here,  as  there  is  in  the  other 
places  supposed  to  be  connected  with  the  Saviour's  life  and  death, 
and  which  serves  not  a  little  to  interrupt  the  devout  musings  of  the 
Christian  visitant. 

The  situation  of  Bethlehem  is  delightful.     It  stands  on  the  brow 


NOTES. 


355 


of  a  hill,  or  precipice,  overlooking  a  beautiful  valley,  in  which  are 
vineyards,  olive-trees  and  fig-trees  in  great  abundance. 

On  our  way  to  Bethlehem  we  visited  the  *  Pools  of  Solomon,'  men- 
tioned in  the  Canticles  or  Song  of  Solomon.  They  are  three  in 
number,  quadrangular,  and  on  levels  one  above  another.  A  little 
above  the  upper  pool,  is  an  arched  vault,  where  the  spring  is  that 
supplies  the  pools,  and  which  is  supposed  to  be  the  '  sealed  fountain* 
which  is  figuratively  used  in  the  Canticles. 

Of  Bethphage,  which  was  about  a  mile  from  the  top  of  the  Mount 
of  olives,  and  which  is  mentioned  Mark  xi.  1,  and  Luke  xxix.  19, 
there  are  no  remains. 

Near  to  Bethany,  the  way  to  which  is  on  the  side  of  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  you  are  shown  what  is  traditionally  called  '  the  grave  of 
:s.'  You  descend  many  steps  into  the  side  of  the  hill  to  a 
small  room,  or  cellar,  capable  of  holding  three  or  four  persons,  in 
the  floor  of  which  is  a  trap-door  opening  into  a  vault  about  large 
enough  to  contain  a  single  body.  Here,  it  is  said,  the  body  of  Laz- 
arus was  laiti. 

From  the  top  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  the  Dead  Sea  and  the  Valley 
of  the  Jordan  are  distinctly  visible. 

At  Jerusalem  we  received  much  attention  from  the  English  con- 
sul ;  from  Mr.  Nicolaison,  the  English  missionary  to  the  Jews,  and 
from  Mr.  Laneau,  of  South  Carolina,  the  American  missionary  ;  as 
we  did  afterwards  from  Mr.  Thompson  at  Bey  rout,  and  had  previ- 
ously from  our  missionaries  in  Greece  and  Turkey.  Our  ministers, 
charge-  :md  consuls  every  where,  were  assiduous  in  show- 

ing us  every  civility  and  affording  us  every  assistance  in  their  power. 
The  consuls  who  were  foreigners,  were,  by  no  means,  less  attentive 
than  our  countrymen.  Among  them,  Mr.  Chasseau  at  Beyrout, 
Mr.  Hoskear  at  Christi.mia  in  Norway,  the  consul  at  Ystad  in  Swe- 
<U 'ii,  Mr.  Swartz  at  Vienna,  Mr.  Campbell  at  Genoa,  and  Mr.  Om- 
brosi  at  Florence,  should  be  particularly  mentioned. 

Damascus,  which  we  visited  on  leaving  the  Holy  City  and  its  in- 
tensely interesting  neighborhood,  is  one  of  the  most  ancient  cities 
now  in  being.  It  existed  in  the  time  of  Abraham. 

The  view  of  it,  as  you  approach  it,  is  exceedingly  beautiful.  So 
it  has  been  described  by  all  travellers,  ancient  and  modern,  who 
have  visited  it,  and  so  we  found  it. 


356 


NOTES. 


As  it  bursts  suddenly  upon  you  in  turning  round  a  high  project- 
ing rock  on  the  top  of  Mount  Lebanon  (Anti  Libanus),  nothing  can 
exceed  its  beauty ;  extending  along  a  rich,  fertile  valley  occupied  by 
gardens,  for  more  than  nine  miles  in  extent,  and  three  in  breadth  ; 
two  or  three  rivers  winding  through  it  ;  the  trees  in  gardens  of  the 
city  itself  rising,  mingled  with  minarets,  above  the  city  walls. 

The  gardens  of  Damascus,  with  their  fragrant  trees,  flowers,  and 
their  marble  fountains,  carried  us  back  to  the  days  of  childhood, 
and  brought  up  again  to  the  imagination  the  enchanted  scenes  of  the 
'Arabian  Nights.' 

The  prejudices  against,  —  or  as  it  might  with  more  propriety  be 
said,  —  the  hatred  of  Christians,  has  been  stronger  at  Damascus 
than  in  any  other  place  in  Syria.  No  Christian  was  allowed  to  enter 
the  city  except  on  foot.  If  he  came  to  the  gate  riding,  he  must  dis- 
mount and  walk.  On  entering,  he  was  treated  with  great  contempt 
and  rudeness,  if  he  even  escaped  violence.  But  things  have  greatly 
changed.  The  prejudice  is  much  ameliorated.  We  rode  into  the 
city  on  our  mules,  were  received  kindly,  and  remained  there  several 
days,  passing  constantly  through  the  streets,  and  visiting  the  places 
the  most  interesting  to  us. 

We  were  informed  that  General  Cass,  when  he  visited  Damascus, 
entered  the  city  on  horseback,  with  his  suite,  and  the  American  flag 
flying,  and  that  the  governor  gave  orders  that  all  who  were  in  the 
streets  should  rise  as  the  procession  passed,  and  make  their  obei- 
sance. 

There  is  a  Roman  Catholic  monastery  there,  where  strangers  are 
hospitably  received,  and  lodged  and  boarded  without  any  compensa- 
tion but  what  is  gratuitous.  There  are  also  two  or  three  boarding 
houses.  Our  attentive  and  excellent  friend,  Mr.  Chasseau,  the 
American  consul  at  Beyrout,  had  given  us  a  letter  to  the  French 
consul  at  Damascus,  who  was  very  attentive,  and  furnished  us  with 
not  a  little  information. 

j*f  '  Ibec,  the  ancient  Heliopolis,  or  City  of  the  Sun,  described 
,biar.s  as  the  « Wonder  of  Syria,'  about  fifty  miles  from 
whose  ruins  (Balbec),  though  less  extensive  than  those 
have  more  beauty  in  the  detail,  an  interesting  and  beau- 
occurred,  illustrative  of  the  kindness  of  the  Arabs  in 

died  our  tent  on  the  bank  of  a  small  stream  at  the 


NOTKS.  357 

foot  of  the  principal  *  Ruin,'  —  the  Temple  of  the  Sun.  After  look- 
ing at  the  remains  of  this  splendid  structure,  we  went  out  to  visit 
some  other  ruins  in  the  village.  On  leaving  the  lost  of  these,  the 
writer  recollected  something  that  he  wished  to  look  at  again,  and 
requested  his  wife,  who  accompanied  him,  to  stand  still  a  moment, 
while  he  went  back  to  do  so.  On  his  leaving  her,  she  thought  she 
would  make  her  own  way  to  the  tent,  but  was  soon  at  a  loss,  and 
stopped  and  looked  round  her.  The  door  of  a  house  opened  and  two 
Arab  women  came  out.  They  approached  her  gently,  one  of  them 
placing  a  hand  upon  one  of  her  shoulders,  and  the  other  a  hand  upon 
the  other  shoulder,  and  smiling  in  her  face  as  if  to  say  *  Do  not  be 
alarmed,  we  mean  to  do  you  a  kindness  and  no  harm,'  they  each 
took  one  of  her  arms  and  led  her,  with  the  utmost  gentleness,  to  her 
tent.  They  had  doubtless  been  watching  our  movements  from  a 
window  in  the  hovel,  had  marked  what  was  done,  had  seen  her  per- 
plexity, and,  with  the  sagacity  of  women,  had  comprehended  it,  and 
came  out  to  relieve  her.  * 

They  were  women.  W^oman  is  the  same  kind,  compassionate 
being,  —  the  same  ministering  angel,  —  in  civilized  and  in  savage 
life. 

In  the  East,  there  is  a  species  of  locust-tree,  which  bears  a  kind 
of  fruit  that  is  sometimes  eaten.  Some  have  supposed  this  to 
have  been  the  *  meat '  that  was  eaten  by  John  the  Baptist,  but,  as 
there  appears  to  be  but  little  nutriment  in  it,  and  as  the  locust  of  en- 
tomology (gryllus)  is  said  to  be  a  great  delicacy  when  salted  and 
dried,  and  to  be  gathered  in  great  abundance  by  the  Arabs,  and  laid 
up,  dried,  for  winter  provision,  it  was  doubtless  this  insect  which 
was  the  '  meat '  of  John  the  Baptist  in  the  wilderness. 

We  found  Egypt,  to  which  we  went  on  leaving  Syria,  '  the  basest 
of  kingdoms,'  as  had  long  since  been  foretold  of  it  ;  suffering  under 
the  severest  and  most  cruel  exactions  of  ruthless  tyranny.  It  seemed 
to  us  that  every  third  person  we  met  had  been  subjected  to  mutila- 
tion, inflicted  either  by  themselves  or  their  parents  in  their  child- 
hood, to  prevent  their  being  torn  from  their  homes  to  supply  the 
armies  of  the  tyrant.  How  imperious  must  be  the  cruel  necessity 
which  would  impel  a  mother  to  mutilate  her  child  !  But  even  this 
was  often  rendered  unavailing  by  the  ingenuity  of  their  oppressor. 

Mehemet  AH  had  redeeming  qualities,  and  deserves  credit  for 
some  wise  and  good  deeds,  lie  established  a  few  manufactories, 


358  NOTES. 

and  two  or  three  seminaries  of  learning,  and  lie  sent  a  number  of 
young  men  to  France  to  be  educated  in  science  and  the  arts.  But 
he  had  European  advisers  about  him  (chiefly  French)  more  enlight- 
ened than  himself,  and  he  was  exceedingly  ambitious  of  a  good 
reputation  in  Europe. 

The  lives  arid  hard  earnings  of  his  subjects,  however,  were  con- 
stantly the  prey  of  his  cruelty  and  cupidity. 

One  or  two  facts  will  illustrate  this  assertion.  When  the  crop 
was  ripe  for  reaping,  the  agent  of  the  pasha  made  his  appearance, 
and  addressed  the  owner  of  it  to  this  effect.  '  You  have  a  fine  crop. 
The  pasha  has  occasion  for  it,  and  will  take  it  at  its  value.  The 
tax  is  so  much,  (naming  a  sum  probably  to  three  quarters  the  worth 
of  the  whole,)  here  is  an  order  upon  the  treasury  at  Cairo  for  the 
balance.'  Cairo  might  be  some  hundred  miles  off.  If  the  owner 
demurred,  he  would  probably  be  threatened  with  the  bastinado,  if 
it  were  not  indeed  actually  applied.  The  poor  wretch  sets  off  for 
Cairo ;  buj,  has  hardly  started,  it  may  be,  before  he  is  seized  by  the 
emissaries  of  the  pasha,  robbed  of  his  order,  and  carried  off  to  the 
army.  If  he  escapes  this,  and  reaches*  Cairo,  and  presents  his 
order,  he  is  informed  that  there  is  no  money  for  him  at  present  ; 
the  pasha  wants  the  money  to  pay  his  army,  but  that  he  can  take 
the  order  to  the  Jews,  who  will  buy  it  of  him  and  get  the  money 
when  they  can.  The  Jews  are  the  agents  of  the  pasha,  and  buy  his 
order  for  a  trifle. 

After  wasting  some  time  at  Cairo,  he  starts  for  home  again,  and, 
if  he  escapes  the  fate  before  designed  for  him,  returns  empty.  Such 
was  the  constant  practice  under  Mehemet  Ali  in  1839. 

While  we  were  at  Alexandria,  the  Turkish  fleet  arrived,  with 
a  large  sum  in  piastres  on  board.  These  were  disposed  of  in 
Alexandria.  The  pasha  immediately  issued  an  order  lowering  the 
value  of  the  piastre,  and  bought  them  in  at  the  depreciated  value. 
He  then  issued  an  order  raising  their  value,  and  paid  out  his  pias- 
tres at  the  increased  value. 

Mehemet  Ali  was  born  in  1769,  in  Cavalle,  a  little  port  in  Rou- 
malie,  of  poor  parents.  Under  age,  an  orphan,  he  was  adopted  by 
an  aga.  His  courage  and  quickness  were  remarkable.  He  married 
a  rich  widow,  and  acquired  independence  by  commerce  in  tobacco. 
"When  the  French  invaded  Egypt,  the  Porte  levied  troops  to  dispute 
this  province  with  Bonaparte,  and  ordered  three  hundred  men  to 


NOTES.  359 

be  raised  in  the  town  in  which  Mehemet  AH  lived.  He  took  an 
active  part  in  levying  them,  a»i.-tcd  at  the  battle  of  Aboukir,  dis- 
tinguished him.self,  and,  ere  long,  received  the  command  of  one 
th  u-.-in.l  men. 

He  held  this  rank  when  the  French  evacuated  Egypt.  He  was 
sent  to  tight  the  Mamelukes,  whom  he  eventually  exterminated.  He 
supplanted  the  then  pasha,  who  was  unpopular,  by  the  aid  of  the 
French  consul,  and  soon  threw  oft' his  allegiance  to  the  Porte. 

It  is  stated  in  this  discourse,  that  we  were  obliged  to  use  great 
precaution  in  Jerusalem  to  avoid  infection  from  the  plague.  It  is 
by  no  means  a  settled  point  that  the  plague  is  contagious.  Certain 
it  is  that  we  were  constantly  compromised  in  regard  to  it  j  riding  upon 
the  mules,  which  animals  often  died  of  the  disease,  and  being  often 
lifted  upon  the  mules  by  the  muleteers,  who  had  free  intercourse 
with  every  one,  and  took  no  percaution  to  avoid  infection.  We  were 
cautioned  to  avoid  all  contact  in  passing  through  the  streets,  even 
of  our  garments,  with  the  passers-by,  and  we  had  an  amusing  in- 
stance of  the  similarity  of  the  habits  of  childhood  every  where.  The 
little  girls  would  run  up  and  pretend  they  intended  to  touch  us,  in 
order  to  frighten  us. 

-lantinople  at  the  time  of  the  death  of  the  Sultan 
Mahiimud,  and  the  proclamation  of  his  successor,  the  present  sultan, 
Abdul  Medjed.  The  funeral  of  the  old  grand  seigneur  was  con- 
ducted with  a  good  deal  of  quiet  and  simplicity.  His  body  Was 
carried  in  a  barge,  richly  decorated,  accompanied  by  a  procession  of 
barges  on  the  Bosphorus,  tu  it-  last  resting-place. 

The  procession  at  the  first  public  appearance  of  the  new  sultan, 
reali/ed  to  us  the  pictures  presented  in  eastern  romance. 

The  gorgeous  apparel  of  the  attendants  on  the  sovereign,  the 
splendid  caparisons  of  their  steeds,  and  the  whole  display  of  magnifi- 
cence and  splendor,  exceed  description.* 

The  sultan  himself  was  on  horseback.  He  wore  a  large  plume 
(if  so  it  may  be  called)  of  diamonds  in  his  turban,  but  had  much 
less  finery  about  him  than  those  who  attended  him.  He  appeared  to 
be,  as  he  was,  a  youth  of  sixteen  ;  thin,  pale  and  effeminate,  having 
spent  his  life,  thus  far,  within  the  walls  of  the  seraglio 

His  father  (degenerate  disciple  of  Mohammed)  died  of  delirium 
tremens.  This  assertion  is  made  on  undoubted  authority. 

*  It  has  happened  to  the  writer  to  be  present  at  the  first  public  appearance  of 
three  sovereigns.     Napoleon  1st,  Victoria,  and  the,  present  Sultan  of  Turkey. 


360  NOTES. 

In  Turkey  and  Egypt,  and  in  Syria  as  well,  the  effect  of  commerce, 
and  of  the  increased  facility  of  international  communication,  has 
been  to  loosen  the  hold  of  Mussulmen  upon  the  religion  of  the  Prophet 
of  Mecca  ;  and  the  time  is  hastening  on  when  they  will  come  into 
the  household  of  the  Christian  faith.  The  late  Sultan  of  Turkey  has 
been  thought  not  to  have  been  unfriendly  to  such  a  consummation, 
and  Mehemet  Ali,  the  late  Pasha  of  Egypt,  has  been  suspected  of  a 
like  predilection.  The  English  and  American  missionaries  are  in- 
directly promoting  the  same  event. 

In  Turkey,  the  sultan  adopted  not  a  few  customs  of  European 
nations  ;  among  them, — as  many  of  his  subjects  are  said  to  have 
done,  — the  free  use  of  intoxicating  drinks. 

The  introduction  of  the  system  of  quarantine  into  Turkey,  as  it 
strikes  at  the  root  of  fatalism,  is  a  falling  off  from  the  Mohammedan 
faith.  It  was  violently  opposed  by  the  people,  and  a  mob  of  the 
populace,  of  whom  not  a  few  were  women,  attempted  the  destruction 
of  the  quarantine  establishment  when  it  was  first  opened.  The  gov- 
ernment, however,  persevered,  and  it  was  fully  established. 

Near  the  close  of  the  discourse  to  which  these  notes  are  appended, 
I  have  alluded  to  our  return  through  Italy  and  France. 

On  leaving  Egypt,  we  went  through  the  Adriatic  to  Trieste,  pass- 
ing the  island  which  is  immortalized  by  the  shipwreck  of  Paul.  It 
has  been  commonly  supposed  that  Malta  was  the  scene  of  this  disaster, 
but  this  has  been  clearly  shown  to  be  an  error  by  the  learned  Bryant 
and  others.  Some  years  since,  a  British  naval  officer  surveyed  the 
harbor  of  Malta,  and  at  once  determined,  from  the  description  in  the 
Acts,  that  this  could  not  be  the  spot.  Indeed,  the  narrative  of  Luke 
himself,  places  it  in  the  Adriatic,  which  was  the  way  to  Rome,  not 
in  the  Mediterranean,  which  was  not  the  way. 

In  Rome,  on  our  introduction  to  the  Pope,  though  he  received  us 
•very  kindly,  he  disclosed,  perhaps  involuntarily,  the  fact  that  Bos- 
ton was  associated  in  his  mind  with  the  destruction  of  the  Ursuline 
Convent. 

In  the  vestibule  of  one  of  the  churches  at  Rome,  there  is  a  placard 
on  the  wall  giving  notice  that,  by  a  decree  of  Pope  Gregory  the  Great, 
every  person  who  Says  mass  in  that  church  shall  have  the  power  of 
releasing  a  soul  from  purgatory.  The  reason  of  this  decree  is  affirmed 
to  be  this  :  Gregory  was  one  day  passing  the  church,  before  which 


NOTES. 


361 


was  an  image  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  Being  engaged  in  thought,  the 
Pope  passed  without  making  obeisance  to  the  image.  He  heard  a 
voice  calling  him  by  name,  and,  on  looking  up  whence  it  proceeded, 
he  perceived  the  lips  of  the  statue  moving,  and  heard  himself  thus 
accosted  :  '  Gregory,  do  you  know  that  you  have  passed  the  image  of 
the  Holy  Mother,  without  paying  homage  to  it  ? '  Gregory  imme- 
diately prostrated  himself  on  the  ground,  and  felt  so  honored  that 
the  Virgin  Mother  had  condescended  to  address  him,  that  he  issued 
the  decree  given  above. 

In  Naples,  the  priests  have  in  their  possession  a  phial,  which,  as 
they  affirm,  contains  the  real  blood  of  Januarius,  a  Roman  Cath- 
olic saint,  which  they  exhibit  once  a  year  ;  and  which  is  liquid,  or 
congealed,  as  the  priests  choose  to  have  it.  When  it  is  not  liquid, 
they  say  it  portends  calamity,  otherwise,  a  blessing.  While  it  re- 
mains congealed,  the  people  are  in  a  state  of  great  excitement  and 
distress.  When  the  French  had  possession  of  Naples  during  the  reign 
of  Napoleon,  the  blood  remained  congealed,  and  the  populace  were 
so  much  excited,  that  there  was  much  tumult  and  great  danger  of 
an  insurrection  against  the  French,  whose  presence,  it  was  supposed, 
prevented  the  liquefication.  The  French  General  in  command,  sent 
a  message  to  the  priests,  that  if  the  blood  was  not  liquefied  in  ten 
minutes  after  the  message  was  received,  he  would  take  off  all  their 
heads.  The  effect  was  instantaneous.  The  blood  was  immediately 
exhibited  to  the  people  in  a  state  of  liquefication,  and  the  tumult 
subside*  1. 

The  Italian  character  has  been  much  misrepresented.  We  were 
domesticated  in  Rome  a  number  of  months,  and  had  frequent  and 
familiar  intercourse  with  respectable  families,  and  nowhere  have  we 
seen  more  domestic  affection  or  more  propriety  and  delicacy  of  beha- 
vior than  there.  The  writer,  before  his  first  visit  to  Italy,  was 
assured  by  his  friend,  M.  Coqueril,  the  eminent  Protestant  minister 
in  France,  who  had  resided  long  in  Italy,  that  he  would  find  the 
Italian  character  as  above  represented.  In  regard  to  their  integrity 
and  sense  of  honor,  Mr.  Hammatt,  the  American  consul  at  Naples, 
stated  that  he  had  been  engaged  in  business  transactions  there  for  a 
good  many  years,  to  a  great  amount,  and  that  he  had  not  lost  a 
fiirthing  by  a  bad  debt.  There  is,  undoubtedly,  much  dissoluteness 
and  trickery  here,  as  well  as  elsewhere,  but  much  less  than  has  been 
imputed  to  them. 

VOL.  n.  31 


362 


NOTES. 


There  is  much  scepticism  in  Italy,  and  even  in  Imperial  Rome 
itself,  at  least  among  professional  men  and  the  higher  classes,  in 
regard  to  the  Roman  Catholic  faith.  This  was  communicated  to  us 
with  a  freedom  which  surprised  us. 

In  all  the  Italian  states  there  is  an  ardent  aspiration  after  political 
freedom,  but  little  or  no  prospect,  at  present,  at  least,  of  their  ob- 
taining it.  The  system  of  Austrian  espionage  is  complete  j  and 
Austrian  bayonets  are  always  at  hand  to  put  an  end  to  any  symptom 
of  revolution.  The  sad  indifference  to  their  fate,  both  in  Europe  and 
America,  damps  the  hope  of  any  assistance  from  abroad.  The  fate 
of  Hungary  is  too  recent  and  too  striking  to  give  them  much,  if  any, 
encouragement.  The  mildest  government  in  Italy  is  the  Tuscan, 
but  there  is  as  much  desire  for  a  change  there  as  elsewhere. 

In  France,  every  thing,  with  respect  to  religion,  is  unsettled. 
There  is  undoubtedly  much  scepticism,  —  certainly  as  it  regards 
Popery,  —  but  the  French,  as  was  stated  by  the  eminent  Protestant 
minister  to  whom  I  have  before  referred,  are  seeking  a  religion. 
France,  I  think,  will  become  a  Protestant  country,  though  it  may 
be  long  first,  as  only  one  thirtieth  of  its  population  are  Protes- 
tants. The  rest  are  nominally  Roman  Catholics ;  but  many  are 
actually  sceptics,  or  in  a  state  of  transition  from  Roman  Catholicism 
to  Protestantism.  In  the  House  of  Peers  there  are  sixteen  Protestants, 
(1839).  In  the  House  of  Assembly  one  twentieth  are  Protestants. 

No  questions  are  ever  asked  in  the  elections,  or  appointments  to 
office,  respecting  the  religious  belief.  It  was  so,  at  least,  in  1839. 
The  policy  of  the  present  government  of  France  is  intolerant  and 
persecuting.  How  far  this  may  accelerate  or  retard  the  progress  of 
Protestantism,  remains  to  be  seen. 


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